Towards Zero

Agatha Christie

Berkley (1991)

Rating:

★★★★☆

Tags:

Fiction, General, Mystery Detective, Detective, Police Procedural, Fiction - Mystery, Suspense, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Crime mystery, Mystery Detective - General, Detective and Mystery Stories, Crime Thriller, English, Mystery and Detective Stories, Traditional British, Mystery Detective - Traditional British, Irish, Drama, Welsh, Scottish, Battle, Superintendant (Fictitious character)

Fictionttt Generalttt Mystery Detectivettt Detectivettt Police Proceduralttt Fiction - Mysteryttt Suspensettt Women Sleuthsttt Mysteryttt Crime mysteryttt Mystery Detective - Generalttt Detective and Mystery Storiesttt Crime Thrillerttt Englishttt Mystery and Detective Storiesttt Traditional Britishttt Mystery Detective - Traditional Britishttt Irishttt Dramattt Welshttt Scottishttt Battlettt Superintendant (Fictitious character)ttt

SUMMARY:

Mystery's #1 bestseller . . . second to none!A Christie classic, featuring Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. . . . It's murder most foul when someone at the Gull's Point guesthouse kills Mr. Treves, leaving Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard with a number of suspects--and zero evidence...

Towards Zero

Book Jacket

Rating:

Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Detective, Police Procedural, Fiction - Mystery, Suspense, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Crime & mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Detective and mystery stories, Crime & Thriller, English, Mystery and detective stories, Traditional British, Mystery & Detective - Traditional British, Irish, Drama, Welsh, Scottish, Battle, Superintendant (Fictitious character)

SUMMARY: Mystery's #1 bestseller . . . second to none!A Christie classic, featuring Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. . . . It's murder most foul when someone at the Gull's Point guesthouse kills Mr. Treves, leaving Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard with a number of suspects--and zero evidence...

Also available in Large Print

by Agatha Christie:

The A.B.C. Murders

The Body in the Library

The Boomerang Clue

Crooked House

Evil Under the Sun

Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories

A Murder is Announced

Peril at End House

The Secret Adversary

Three Blind Mice and Other Stories

The Witness for the Prosecution

TOHRRD5 ZERO

Boston/

1988

Copyright 1941, by Agatha Christie Limited.

Copyright renewed 1971, 1972 by Agatha Christie Limited.

All rights reserved.

Published in Large Print by arrangement with

Dodd, Mead & Co., Inc.

G.K. Hall Large Print Book Series.

Set in 18 pt Plantin.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Christie, Agatha, 18901976.

Towards zero / Agatha Christie.

p. cm.---(G.K. Hall large print book series) ISBN 0-8161-4611-X (lg. print) ISBN 0-8161-4612-8

(pb)

1. Large type books. I. Title.

[PR6005.H66T65

1988]

823'.912--dc19

8811926

Contents

Prologue

"Open the Door and Here Are the

People"

Snow White and Rose Red

A Fine Italian Hand...

Zero Hour

8 TO

170

289

Prologue

November 19th

The group round the fireplace was nearly

all composed of lawyers or those who had

an interest in the law. There was Martindale,

the solicitor; Rufus Lord, K.C.; young

Daniels, who had made a name for himself

in the Carstairs case; a sprinkling of other

barristers Mr. Justice Cleaver, Lewis of

Lewis and Trench and old Mr. Treves. Mr.

Treves was close on eighty, a very ripe and

experienced eighty. He was a member of

a famous firm of solicitors, and the most

famous member of that firm. He had settled

innumerable delicate cases out of court, he

was said to know more of backstairs history

than any man in England and he was a

specialist on criminology.

Unthinking people said Mr. Treves ought

to write his memoirs. Mr. Treves knew bet-ter.

He knew that he knew too much.

Thoueh he had lone retired from active

practice, there was no man in England whose

opinion was so respected by the members of

his own fraternity. Whenever his thin, pre-cise, little voice was raised there was always

a respectful silence.

The conversation now was on the subject

of a much talked of case which had finished

that day at the Old Bailey. It was a murder

case and the prisoner had been acquitted.

The present company was busy trying the

case over again and making technical criti-cisms.

The prosecution had made a mistake in

relying on one of its witnesses old Depleach

ought to have realized what an opening he

was giving to the defense. Young Arthur

had made the most of that servant girl's

evidence. Bentmore, in his summing up, had

very rightly put the matter in its correct

perspective, but the mischief was done by

then the jury had believed the girl. Juries

were funny--you never knew what they'd

swallow and what they wouldn't but let

them once get a thing into their heads and

no one was ever going to get it out again.

They believed that the girl was speaking the

truth about the crowbar and that was that.

The medical evidence had been a bit above

their heads. All those lon terms and scien

tific jargon damned bad witnesses, these

scientific johnnies always hemmed and

hawed and couldn't say yes or no to a plain

question always "under certain circum-stances that might take place" and so on!

They talked themselves out, little by lit-tle,

and as the remarks became more spas-modic

and disjointed, a general feeling grew

of something lacking. One head after another

turned in the direction of Mr. Treves. For

Mr. Treves had as yet contributed nothing

to the discussion. Gradually it became appar-ent that the company were waiting for a final

word from their most respected colleague.

Mr. Treves, leaing back in his chair,

was absentmindedly polishing his glasses.

Something in the silence made him look up

sharply.

"Eh?" he said. "What was that? You asked me something?"

Young Lewis spoke:

"We were talking, sir, about the Lamorne

case."

He paused expectantly.

"Yes, yes," said Mr. Treves. "I was think-ing of that."

There was a respectful hush.

"But I'm afraid," said Mr. Treves, still polishing, "that I was being fanciful. Yes,

fanciful. Result of getting on in years, I sup-pose. At my age one can claim the privilege

of being fanciful, if one likes."

"Yes, indeed, sir," said young Lewis, but he looked puzzled.

"I was thinking," said Mr. Treves, "not so much of the various points of law raised

though they were interesting very interest-ing

if the verdict had gone the other way

there would have been good grounds for

appeal, I rather think but I won't go into

that now. I was thinking, as I say, not of the

points of law but of the well, of the people

in the case."

Everybody looked rather astonished. They

had considered the people in the case only

as regarded their credibility or otherwise as

witnesses. None of them had even hazarded

a speculation as to whether the prisoner had

been guilty or as innocent as the court had

pronounced him to be.

"Human beings, you know," said Mr.

Treves thoughtfully. "Human beings. All

kinds and sorts and sizes and shapes of 'em.

Some with brains and a good many more

without. They'd come from all over the place,

Lancashire, Scotland that restaurant pro-prietor from Italy, and that schoolteacher

woman from somewhere out Middle West.

All caught up and enmeshed in the thing

and finally all brought together in a court

of law in London on a grey November day.

Each one contributing his little part. The

whole thing culminating in a trial for

murder."

He paused and gently beat a delicate tat-too

on his knee.

"I like a good detective story," he said.

"But, you know, they begin in the wrong

place! They begin with the murder. But the

murder is the end. The story begins long

before that years before sometimes with

all the causes and events that bring certain

people to a certain place at a certain time on

a certain day. Take that little maid servant's

evidence if the kitchenmaid hadn't pinched

her young man she wouldn't have thrown

up her situation in a huff and gone to the

Lamornes and been the principal witness for

the defense. That Giuseppe Antonelli com-ing

over to exchange with his brother for

a month. The brother is as blind as a bat.

He wouldn't have seen what Giuseppe's sharp

eyes saw. If the constable hadn't been sweet

on the cook at No. 48, he wouldn't have

been late on his beat... ."

He nodded his head gently.

"All converging towards a given slot.

And then, when the time comes over the

top! Zero hour. Yes, all of them converging

towards zero... ."

He repeated, "Towards zero... ."

Then he gave a quick little shudder.

"You're cold, sir, come nearer the fire."

"No, no," said Mr. Treves. "Just some-one walking over my grave as they say. Well,

well, I must be making my way homewards."

He gave an affable little nod and went

slowly and precisdy out of the room.

There was a moment's dubious silence and

then Rufus Lord, K.C., remarked that poor

old Treves was getting on.

Sir William Cleaver said:

"An acute brain a very acute brain but

anno domini tells in the end."

"Got a groggy heart, too," said Lord.

"May drop down any minute I believe."

"He takes pretty good care of himself," said young Lewis.

At that moment Mr. Treves was carefully

stepping into his smooth-running Daimler.

It deposited him at a house in a quiet square.

A solicitous buffer valet helped him off with

his coat. Mr. Treves walked into his library

where a coal fire was burning. His bedroom

lay beyond, for out of consideration for his

heart he never went upstairs.

He sat down in front of the fire and drew

his letters towards him.

His mind was still dwelling on the fancy

he had outlined at the Club.

"Even now," thought Mr. Treves to him-self,

"some drama some murder to be is

in course of preparation. If I were writing

one of these amusing stories of blood and

crime, I should begin now with an elderly

gentleman sitting in front of the fire opening

his letters going, unbeknownst to himself

towards zero. . . ."

He slit open an envelope and gazed down

absently at the sheet he extracted from it.

Suddenly his expression changed. He came

back from romance to reality.

"Dear me," said Mr. Treves. "How ex-tremely annoying! Really, how very vexing.

After all these years! This will alter all my

plans."

"Open the Door and

Here Are The People"

January l l th

The man in the hospital bed shifted his body

slightly and stifled a groan.

The nurse in charge of the ward got up

from her table and came down to him. She

shifted his pillows and moved him into a

more comfortable position.

Andrew MacWhirter only gave a grunt by

way of thanks.

He was in a state of seething rebellion and

bitterness.

By this time it ought all to have been over.

He ought to have been out of it all! Curse

that damned ridiculous tree growing out of

the cliff! Curse those officious sweethearts

who braved the cold of a winter's night to

keep a tryst on the cliff edge.

But for them (and the tree!) it would have

been over a plunge into the deep icy water,

h4sf etva,lo rrhnenci then oblivion

the end of a misused, useless, unprofitable

life.

And now where was he? Lying ridicu-lously

in a hospital bed with a broken shoul-der

and with the prospect of being hauled

up in a police court for the crime of trying

to take his own life.

Curse it, it was his own life, wasn't it?

And if he had succeeded in the job, they

would have buried him piously as of un-sound

mind!

Unsound mind, indeed! He'd never been

saner! And to commit suicide was the most

logical and sensible thing that could be done

by a man in his position.

Completely down and out, with his health

permanently affected, with a wife who had

left him for another man. Without a job,

without affection, without money, health or

hope, surely to end it all was the only possi-ble solution?

And now here he was in this ridiculous

plight. He would shortly be admonished by

a sanctimonious magistrate for doing the

common sense thing with a commodity which

belonged to him and to him only his life.

He snorted with anger. A wave of fever

passed over him.

The nurse was beside him aain.

She was young, red-haired, with a kindly,

rather vacant face*

"Are you in much pain?"

"No, I'm not."

"I'll give you something to make you

sleep."

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

"But "

"Do you think I can't bear a bit of pain

and sleeplessness?"

She smiled in a gentle, slightly superior

way.

"Doctor said you could have something."

"I don't care what doctor said."

She straightened the covers and set a glass

of lemonade a little nearer to him. He said,

slightly ashamed of himself, "Sorry if I was

rude*"

"Oh, that's all right."

It annoyed him that she was so completely

undisturbed by his bad temper* Nothing like

that could penetrate her nurse's armor of

indulgent indifference. He was a patient

not a man.

He said:

"Damned interference all this damned

interference

"

She said reprovingly, "Now, now, that

isn't very nice."

"Nice?" he demanded. "Nice? My God." She said calmly, "You'll feel better in the morning."

He swallowed.

"You nurses. You nurses.t You're inhuman,

that's what you are!"

"We know what's best for you, you see."

"That's what's so infuriating! About you.

About a hospital. About the world. Continual

interference! Knowing what's best for

other people. I tried to kill myself. You know

that, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Nobody's business but mine whether I

threw myself off a bloody cliff or not. I'd

finished with life. I was down and out!"

She made a little clicking noise with her

tongue. It indicated abstract sympathy. He

was a patient. She was soothing him by letting

him blow off steam.

"Why shouldn't I kill myself if I want

to?" he demanded.

She replied to that quite seriously.

"Because it's wrong."

"Why is it wrong?"

She looked at him doubtfully. She was not

disturbed in her own belief, but she was

much too inarticulate to explain her reaction.

"Well I mean it's wicked to kill your

self. You've got to go on living whether you

like it or not.

"Why have you?"

"Well, there are other people to consider, aren't there?"

"Not in my case. There's not a soul in the world who'd be the worse for my passing

on.

"Haven't you got any relations? No mother

or sister or anything?"

"No.' I had a wife once but she left me

quite right too! She saw I was no good."

"But you've got friends, surely?"

"No, I haven't. I'm not a friendly sort

of man. Look here, nurse, I'll tell you some-thing. I was a happy sort of chap once. Had

a good job and a good-looking wife. There

was a car accident. My boss was driving the

car and I was in it. He wanted me to say

he was driving under thirty at the time of

the accident. He wasn't. He was driving

nearer fifty. Nobody was killed, nothing like

that, he just wanted to be in the right for the insurance people. Well, I wouldn't say what

he wanted. It was a lie. I don't tell lies."

The nurse said, "Well, I think you were

quite right. Quite right."

."You do, do you? That pigheadedness of

mine cost me my .job. My boss was sore. He

saw to it that I didn't get another. My wife

got fed up seeing me mooch about unable to

get anything to do. She went off with a man

who had been my friend. He was doing well

and going up in the world. I drifted along

going steadily down. I took to drinking a

bit. That didn't help me to hold down jobs.

Finally I came down to hauling strained

my inside the doctor told me I'd never be

strong again. Well, there wasn't much to live

for then. Easiest way, and the cleanest way,

was to go right out. My life was no good to

myself or anyone else."

The little nurse murmured, "You don't

know that."

He laughed. He was better tempered al-ready.

Her naive obstinacy amused him.

"My dear girl, what use am I to anybody?"

She said confusedly, "You don't know.

You may be someday "

"Someday? There won't be any someday.

Next time I shall make sure."

She shook her head decidedly.

"Oh, no," she said. "You won't kill your-self now."

"Why not?"

"They never do."

He stared at her. "They never do." He was one of a class of would-be suicides. Ocenine

his mouth to protest energetically, his innate

honesty suddenly stopped him.

Wou/d he do it again? Did he really mean

to do it?

He knew suddenly that he didn't. For no

reason. Perhaps the fight reason was the one

she had given out of her specialized knowl-edge. Suicides didn't do it again.

All the more .he felt determined to force

an admission from her on the ethical side.

"At any rate I've got a right to do what

I like with my own life."

"No no, you haven't."

"But why not, my dear girl, why?"

She flushed. She said, her fingers playing

with the little gold cross that hung round her

neck:

"You don't understand. God may need

you.

He stared taken aback. He did not want

to upset her childlike faith. He said mock-ingly:

"I suppose that one day I may stop a run-away horse and save a golden-haired child

from death eh? Is that it?"

She shook her head. She said with vehe-mence

and trying to express what was so

vivid in her mind and so halting on her

tonmle:

"It may be just by being somewhere not

doing anything--just by being at a certain

place at a certain time oh, I can't say what

I mean, but you might just just walk along

a street someday and just by doing that accomplish something terribly important perhaps

without even knowing what it was."

The red-haired little nurse came from the

west coast of Scotland and some of her family

had "the sight."

Perhaps, dimly, she saw a picture of a

man walking up a road on a night in September

and thereby saving a human being

from a terrible death ....

February 14th

There was only one person in the room and

the only sound to be heard was the scratching

of that person's pen as it traced line after

line across the paper.

There was no one to read the words that

were being traced. If there had been, they

would hardly have believed their eyes. For

what was being written was a clear, carefully

detailed project for murder.

There are times when a body is conscious of a mind controlline it when it bows obe dient to that alien something that controls its actions. There are other times when a mind

is conscious of owning and controlling a body

and accomplishing its purpose by using that

body.

The figure sitting writing was in the last

named state. It was a mind, a cool controlled

intelligence. This mind had only one thought

and one purpose the destruction of another

human being. To the end that his purpose

might be accomplished, the scheme was be-ing

worked out meticulously on paper. Every

eventuality, every possibility was being taken

into account. The thing had got to be ab-solutely foolproof. The scheme, like all good

schemes, was not absolutdy cut and dried.

There were certain alternative actions at

certain points. Moreover, since the mind was

intelligent, it realized that there must be

intelligent provision left for the unforeseen.

But the main lines were clear and had been

the place, the

closely tested. The time,

method, the victim! . . .

The figure raised its head.

With its hand,

it picked up the sheets of paper and read

them carefully through. Yes, the thing was

crystal clear.

Acrnss the seHnlm face a smile came. It

was a smile that was not quite sane. The

figure drew a deep breath.

As man was made in the image of his

maker, so there was now a terrible travesty

of a creator's joy.

Yes, everything planned everyone's reaction

foretold and allowed for, the good and

evil in everybody played upon and brought

into harmony with one evil design.

There was one thing lacking still ....

With a smile the writer traced a date

date in September.

a

Then, with a laugh, the paper was torn in

pieces and the pieces carried across the room

and put into the heart of the glowing fire.

There was no carelessness. Every single piece

was consumed and destroyed. The plan was

now only existent in the brain of its creator.

March 8th

Superintendent Battle was sitting at the

breakfast table. His jaw was set in a truculent fashion and he was reading slowly and

carefully a letter that his wife had just tearfully handed to him. There was no expression

visible on his face, for his face never did

reeister any extression. It had the astect of

a face carved out of wood. It was solid and

durable and, in some way, impressive. Su-perintendent Battle had never suggested bril-liance;

he was, definitely, not a brilliant man,

but he had some other quality, difficult to

define, that was nevertheless forceful.

"I can't believe it," said Mrs. Battle, sob-bing.

"Sylvia!"

Sylvia was the youngest of Superintendent

and Mrs. Battle's five children. She was six-teen and at school near Maidstone.

The letter was from Miss Amphrey, head-mistress of the school in question. It was a

clear, kindly and extremely tactful letter. It

set out, in black and white, that various

small thefts had been puzzling the school

authorities for some time, that the matter

had been at last cleared up, that Sylvia Battle had confessed and that Miss Amphrey would

like to see Mr. and Mrs. Battle at the earliest possible oppornmity "to discuss the posi-tion.''

Superintendent Battle folded up the let-ter,

put it in his pocket, and said, "You

leave this to me, Mary."

He got up, walked round the table, patted

her on the cheek and said, "Don't worry,

clear it urill ky nil rirht."

He went from the room leaving comfort

and reassurance behind him.

That afternoon, in Miss Amphrey's mod-em

and individualistic drawing room, Super-intendent Battle sat very squarely on his

chair, his large wooden hands on his knees,

confronting Miss Amphrey and managing to

look, far more than usual, every inch a po-liceman.

Miss Amphrey was a very successful head-mistress. She had personalityma great deal

of personality, she was enlightened and up to

date, and she combined discipline with mod-em

ideas of self-determination.

Her room was representative of the spirit

of Meadway. Everything was of a cool oat-meal

color there were big jars of daffodils

and bowls of tulips and hyacinths. One or

two good copies of the antique Greek, two

pieces of advanced modern sculpture, two

Italian primitives on the walls. In the midst

of all this, Miss Amphrey herself, dressed

in a deep shade of blue, with an eager face

suggestive of a conscientious greyhound, and

clear blue eyes looking serious through thick

lenses.

"The important thing," she was saying in her clear, well-modulated voice, "is that this should be taken the right way. It is the rl

herself we have to think of, Mr. Battle. Sylvia

herself! It is more important most impor-tant

that her life should not be crippled in

any way. She must not be made to assume

a burden of guilt blame must be very very

sparingly meted out, if at all. We must arrive

at the reason behind these quite trivial

pilferings. A sense of inferiority, perhaps?

She is not good at games, you know an

obscure wish to shine in a different sphere

the desire to assert her ego? We must be

very very careful. That is why I wanted to

see you alone first to impress upon you

to be very, very careful with Sylvia. I repeat

again, it's very important to get at what is

behind this."

"That, M/ss Amphrey," said Superinten-dent Battle, "is why I have come down."

His voice was quiet, his face unemotional,

his eyes surveyed the schoolmistress apprais-ingly.

"I have been very gentle with her," said Miss Amphrey.

Battle said laconically, "Good of you,

"You see, I really love and understand

these young things."

Baffle did not ret>lv directlv. He said. "I'd

like to see my girl now, if you don't mind,

Miss Amphrey."

With renewed emphasis Miss Amphrey

admonished him to be careful to go slow

not to antagonize a child just budding into

womanhood.

Superintendent Battle showed no signs of

impatience. He just looked blank.

She took him at last to her study. They

passed one or two girls in the passages. They

stood politely to attention but their eyes were full of curiosity. Having ushered Battle into

a small room not quite so redolent of per-sonality as the one downstairs, Miss Amphrey

withdrew and said she would send Sylvia to

him.

Just as she was leaving the room, Battle

stopped her.

"One minute, m'am, how did you come to

pitch upon Sylvia as the one responsible for

these er leakages?"

"My methods, Mr. Battle, were psycho-logical."

Miss Amphrey spoke with dignity.

"Psychological? H'm. What about the evi-dence, Miss Amphrey?"

"Yes, yes, I quite understand, Mr. Battle

you would feel that way. Your er pro-fession

stevs in. But tsvcholov is bermin

to be recognized in criminology. I can assure

you that there is no mistake Sylvia freely

admits the whole thing."

Battle nodded.

"Yes, yes I know that. I was just asking

how you came to pitch upon her to begin

"Well, Mr. Battle, this business of things being taken out of the girls' lockers was on

the increase. I called the school together and

told them the facts. At the same time, I

studied their faces unobtrusively. Sylvia's

expression struck me at once. It was guilty

confused. I knew at that moment who was

responsible. I wanted, not to confront her

with her guilt, but to get her to admit it

herself. I set a little test for her a word

association test."

Battle nodded to show he understood.

"And finally the child admitted it all!" Her father said, "I see."

Miss Amphrey hesitated a minute, then

went out.

Battle was standing looking out of the

window when the door opened again.

He turned round slowly and looked at his

daughter.

Sylvia stood just inside the door which she

had closed behind her. She was tall, dark,

angular. Her face was sullen and bore marks

of tears. She said timidly rather than deft-anfiy:

"Well, here I am."

Battle looked at her thoughtfully for a

minute or two. He sighed.

"I should never have sent you to this

place," he said. "That woman's a fool."

Sylvia lost sight of her own problem in

sheer amazement.

"Miss Amphrey? Oh, but she's wonderful!

We all think so."

"H'm," said Battle. "Can't be quite a fool, then, if she sells the idea of herself as well

as that. All the same, this wasn't the place

for you although I don't know this might

have happened anywhere."

Sylvia twisted her hands together. She

looked down. She said,

"I'm I'm sorry, Father. I really am."

"So you should be," said Battle shortly.

"Come here."

She came slowly and unwillingly across

the room to him. He took her chin in his

great square hand and looked closely into her

face.

"Been through a great deal, haven't you?" he said gently.

Tears started into her eyes.

Battle said slowing:

"You see, Sylv{a, I've known all along

with you, that there was something. Most

people have got a weakness of some kind or

another. Usually it's plain enough. You can

see when a child's greedy, or bad tempered,

or got a streak of the bully in him. You were

a good child, very quiet very sweet tem-pered

no troubl% in any way and some-times

I've worrie. Because if there's a flaw

you don't see, sorvaetimes it wrecks the whole

show when the arkicle is tried out."

"Like me!" saiq Sylvia.

"Yes, like yota. You've cracked under

strain and in a amned queer way too. It's

a way, oddly enouagh, I've never come across

before."

The girl said Sthddenly and scornfully:

"I should thintk you'd come across thieves often enough!"

"Oh, yes I laow all about them. And

that's why, my C!llear--not because I'm your

father (fathers do:,n,t know much about their

children) but beccause I'm a policeman that

I know well enohagh you're not a thief! You

never took a thin.ag in this place. Thieves are of two kinds, thee kind that yields to sudden

and overwhelminlag temptation (and that hap-rens damned s,lcirn--it's amazing hat

temptation the ordinary normal honest hu-man

being can withstand), and there's the

kind that just takes what doesn't belong

to them almost as a matter of course. You

don't belong to either

a thief. You're a very

Sylvia began: "But "

He swept on.

"You've admitted it all? Oh, yes, I know

that. There was a saint once went out with

bread for the poor. Husband didn't like it.

Met her and asked what there was in her

basket. She lost her nerve and said it was

roses He tore open her basket and roses it

was a miracle! Now if you'd been Saint

Elizabeth and were out with a basket of roses,

and your husband had come along and asked

you what you'd got, you'd have lost your

nerve and said 'Bread.'"

He paused and then said gently, "That's

how it happened, isn't it?"

There was a longer pause and then the girl

suddenly bent her head.

Battle said:

"Tell me, child. What happened exactly?"

"She had us all up. Made a speech. And

I saw her eyes on me and I knew she thought

it was me! I felt myself getting red and I

type. You're not

unusual type of

saw some of the girls looking at me. It was

awful. And then the others began looking

at me and whispering in corners. I could see

they all thought so. And then the Amp had

me up here with some of the others one

evening and we played a sort of word game

she said words and we gave answers "

Battle gave a disgusted grunt.

"And I could see what it meant and

and I sort of got paralyzed. I tried not to

give the wrong word I tried to think of

things quite outside like squirrels or flow-ers-and the Amp was there watching me

with eyes like gimlets you know, sort of

boring inside one. And after that oh, it got

worse and worse and one day the Amp talked

to me quite kindly and so so understandingly and and I broke down and said I had done it and oh! Daddy, the relief!"

Battle was stroking his chin.

"I see."

"You do understand?"

"No, Sylvia, I don't understand, because

I'm not made that way. If anyone tried to

make me say I'd done something I hadn't I'd

feel more like giving them a sock on the jaw.

But I see how it came about in your case

and that gimlet-eyed Amp of yours has had

as pret an example of unusual psychology

shoved under her nose as any half baked

exponent of misunderstood theories could

ask for. The thing to do now is to clear up

this mess. Where's Miss Amphrey?"

Miss Amphrey was hovering tactfully near

at hand. Her sympathetic smile froze on her

face as Superintendent Battle said bluntly:

"In justice to my daughter, I must ask

that you call in your local police over this."

"But, Mr. Battle, Sylvia herself"

"Sylvia has never touched a thing that

didn't belong to her in this place."

"I quite understand that, as a father "

"I'm not talking as a father, but as a

policeman. Get the police to give you a hand

over this. They'll be discreet. You'll find the things hidden away somewhere and the right

set of fingerprints on them, I expect. Petty

pilferers don't think of wearing gloves. I'm

taking my daughter away with me now. If

the police find evidence real evidence to

connect her with the thefts, I'm prepared for

her to appear in court and take what's com-ing

to her, but I'm not afraid."

As he drove out of the gate with Sylvia

beside him some five minutes later, he asked,

"Who's the girl with fair hair, rather fuzzy, very rink cheeks and a sot on her chin,

blue eyes far apart? I passed her in the

passage.

"That sounds like Olive Parsons."

"Ah, well, I shouldn't be surprised if she were the one."

"Did she look frightened?"

"No, looked smug! Calm smug look I've

seen in the police court hundreds of times!

I'd bet good money she's the thief but you

won't find her confessing not much!"

Svlvia said with a sigh, "It's like coming out of a bad dream. Oh, Daddy, I am sorry!

Oh, I am sorry! How could I be such a

fool, such an utter fool? I do feel awful about it."

"Ah, well," said Superintendent Battle, patting her on the arm with a hand he dis-engaged from the wheel, and uttering one of

his pet forms of trite consolation, "don't you worry. These things are sent to try us. Yes,

these things are sent to try us. At least, I

suppose so. I don't see what else they can be

sent for .... "

April 19th

The sun was pouring down on Nevile

Strange's house at Hindhead.

It was an April day such as usually occurs

at least once in the month, hotter than most

of the June days to follow.

Nevile Strange was coming down the stairs.

He was dressed in white flannels and held

four tennis rackets under his arm.

If a man could have been selected from

amongst other Englishmen as an example

of a lucky man with nothing to wish for,

a Selection Committee might have chosen

Nevile Strange. He was a man well known to

the British public, a first-class tennis player and all-round sportsman. Though he had

never reached the finals at Wimbledon, he

had lasted several of the opening rotmds and

in the mixed doubles had twice reached the

semi-finals. He was, perhaps, too much of

an all-round athlete to be a champion tennis

player. He was scratch at golf, a fine swim-mer and had done some good climbs in the

Alps. He was thirty-three, had magnificent

health, good looks, plenty of money, an ex-tremely beautiful wife whom he had recently

married and, to all appearances, no cares or

worries.

Nevertheless as Nevile Strange went

downstairs this f'me morning a shadow went

with him. A shadow perceptible, perhaps, to

no eves but his. But he was aware of it. the

thought of it furrowed his brow and made

his expression troubled and indedsive.

He crossed the hall, squared his shoulders

as though definitely throwing off some bur-den, passed through the living room and out

onto a glass verandah where his wife, Kay,

was curled up amongst cushions drinking

orange juice.

Kay Strange was twenty-three and unusu-ally

beautiful. She had a slender but subtly

voluptuous figure, dark red hair, such a per-fect skin that she used only the slightest of

make-up to enhance it, and those dark eyes

and brows which so seldom go with red hair

and which are so devastating when they do.

Her husband said lightly:

"Hullo, gorgeous, what's for breakfast?" Kay replied:

"Horribly bloody-looking kidneys for you

and mushrooms and rolls of bacon."

"Sounds all right," said Nevile.

He helped himself to the aforementioned

viands and poured out a cup of coffee. There

was a companionable silence for some min-utes.

"Oo," said Kay, voluptuously wriggling bare toes with scarlet manicured nails. "Isn't the sun lovely? England's not so bad after

11"

r

They had just come back from the south

of France.

Nevile, after a bare glance at the newspaper

headlines, had turned to the sports

page and merely said "Um..."

Then, proceeding to toast and marmalade,

he put the paper aside and opened his letters.

There were a good many of these but

most of them he tore across and chucked

away. Circulars, advertisements, printed matter.

Kay said:

"I don't like my color scheme in the living room. Can I have it done over, Nevile?"

"Anything you like, beautiful."

"Peacock blue," said Kay dreamily. "And ivory satin cushions."

"You'll have to throw in an ape," said Nevile.

"You can be the ape," said Kay.

Nevile opened another letter.

"Oh, by the way," said Kay. "Shirty has asked us to go to Norway on the yacht at the

end of June. Rather sickening we can't."

She looked cautiously sideways at Nevile

and added wistfully: "I would love it so." Something, some cloud, some uncertainty,

* ,., .... ..! L ...... *-

Kay said rebelliously:

"Have we got to go to dreary old Ca-milla's?''

Nevile frowned.

"Of course we have. Look here, Kay,

we've had this out before. Sir Matthew was

my guardian. He and Camilla looked after

me. Gull's Point is my home, as far as any

place is home to me."

"Oh, all right, all right," said Kay. "If we must, we must. After all we get all that

money when she dies, so I suppose we have

to suck up a bit."

Nevile said angrily:

"It's not a question of sucking up! She's

no control over the money. Sir Matthew left

it in trust for her during her lifetime and

to come to me and my wife afterwards. It's

a question of affection. Why can't you under-stand that?"

Kay said, after a moment's pause:

"I do understand really. I'm just putting

on an act because well, because I know I'm

only allowed there on sufferance as it were.

They hate me! Yes, they do! Lady Tressilian

looks down that long nose of hers at me and

Mary Aldin looks over my shoulder when

she talks to me. It's all very well for you.

You don't see what eoes on."

"They always seem to me very polite to

you. You know quite well I wouldn't stand

for it if they weren't."

Kay gave him a curious look from under

her dark lashes.

"They're polite enough. But they know

how to get under my skin all right. I'm the

interloper, that's what they feel."

"Well," said Nevile, "after all, I suppose that's natural enough, isn't it?"

His voice had changed slightly. He got

up and stood looking out at the view with

his back to Kay.

"Oh, yes, I daresay it's natural. They were devoted to Audrey, weren't they?" Her voice shook a little. "Dear, well-bred, cool, color-less Audrey! Camilla's not forgiven me for

taking her place."

Nevile did not turn. His voice was life-less,

dull. He said: "After all, Camilla's old

past seventy. Her generation doesn't really

like divorce, you know. On the whole I think

she's accepted the position very well consid-ering how fond she was of of Audrey."

His voice changed just a little as he spoke

the name.

"They think you treated her badly."

"So I did," said Nevile under his breath, but his wife heard.

"Oh, Nevile don't be so stupid. Just

because she chose to make such a frightful

fUSS."

"She didn't make a fuss.

made fusses."

"Well, you know what I

Audrey never

mean. Because

she went away and was ill, and went about

everywhere looking brokenhearted. That's

what I call a fuss! Audrey's not what I call a

good loser. From my point of view if a wife

can't hold her husband she ought to give

him up gracefully! You two had nothing in

common. She never played a game and was

as anemic and washed up as as a dish rag.

No life or go in her! If she really cared about you, she ought to have thought about your

happiness first and been glad you were going

to be happy with someone more suited to

you."

Nevile turned. A faintly sardonic smile

played round his lips.

"What a little sportsman! How to play the

game in love and matrimony!"

Kay laughed and reddened.

"Well, perhaps I was going a bit far. But

at any rate once the thing had happened,

there it was. You've got to accept these

things!"

Nevile said auietlv. "Audrev accepted it.

She divorced me so that you and I could

marry.

"Yes, I know "Kay hesitated.

Nevile said:

"You've never understood Audrey."

"No, I haven't. In a way, Audrey gives

me the creeps* I don't know what it is about

her. You never know what she's thinking.

*.. She's she's a LITTLE frightening."

"Oh! nonsense, Kay."

"Well, she frightens me. Perhaps it's because she's got brains."

"My lovely nitwit!"

i;Kay laughed*

""You always call me that!"

"Because it's what you are!"

They smiled at each other. Nevile came

over to her and, bending down, kissed the

back of her neck.

"Lovely, lovely Kay," he murmured.

"Very good Kay," said Kay. "Giving up a lovely yachting trip to go and be snubbed by

her husband's prim Victorian relations*"

Nevile went back and sat down by the

tble.

"You know," he said, "I don't see why we shouldn't go on that trip with Shirty if

y.really want to so uch." lay sat up m astomshment.

"And what about Saltcreek and Gull's

Point?"

Nevile said in a rather unnatural voice:

"I don't see why we shouldn't go there

early in September."

"Oh, but, Nevile, surely "She stopped.

"We can't go in July and August because

of the Tournaments," said Nevile. "But we finish up at St. Lo the last week in August

and it would fit in very well if we went on to

Saltcreek from there."

"Oh, it would fit in all right beautifially. But I thought well, she always goes there

for September, doesn't she?"

"Audrey, you mean?"

"Yes, I suppose they could put her off,

but "

"Why should they put her off?."

Kay stared at him dubiously.

"You mean, we'd be there at the same

time? What an extraordinary idea."

Nevile said irritably:

"I don't think it's at all an extraordinary idea. Lots of people do it nowadays. Why

shouldn't we all be friends together? It makes

things so much simpler. Why, you said so

yourself only the other day."

"I did?"

"Yes. don't you remember? We were

talking about the Howes, and you said it was

the sensible civilized way to look at things,

and that Leonard's new wife and his Ex

were the best of friends."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind, I do think it's

sensible. But well I don't think Audrey

would feel like that about it."

"Nonsense."

"It isn't nonsense. You know, Nevile,

Audrey really was terribly fond of you I

don't

think she'd stand it for a moment."

"You're

quite wrong, Kay. Audrey thinks it

would be quite a good thing."

"Audrey

what do you mean, Audrey thinks?

How do you know what Audrey thinks?"

Nevile

looked slightly embarrassed. He cleared

his throat a little self-consciously.

"As

a matter of fact, I happened to run into

her yesterday when I was up in London."

"You

never told me."

Nevile

said irritably:

"I'm

telling you now. It was absolute chance.

I was walking across the Park and there

she was coming towards me. You wouldn't

want me to nm away from her, would

you?"

"No, of course not," said Kay, stating.

"I we well, we stopped, of course, and

then I t.urned round and walked with her.

I I felt t was the least I could do."

"Go on," said Kay.

"And then we sat down on a couple of

chairs and talked. She was very nice very

nice indeed."

"Delightful for you," said Kay.

"And we got talking, you know, about

one thing and another .... She was quite

natural and normal and and all that."

"Remarkable!" said Kay.

"And she asked how you were "

"Very kind of her!"

"And we talked about you for a bit.

Really, Kay, she couldn't have been nicer."

"Darling Audrey!"

"And then it sort of came to me you

know how nice it would be if if you two

could be friends if we could all get together.

And it occurred to me that perhaps

we might manage it at Gull's Point this summer. Sort of place it could happen quite

naturally."

"You thought of that?"

"I well yes, of course. It was all my idea"

"You've never said anything to me about

having any such idea."

"Well, I only happened to think of it just then."

"I see. Anyway, you suggested it and

Audrey thought it was a marvelous brain

wave?"

For the first time, something in Kay's

manner seemed to penetrate to Nevile's con-sciousness.

He said:

"Is anything the matter, gorgeous?"

"Oh, no, nothing! Nothing at all! It didn't occur to you or Audrey whether I should

think it a marvelous idea?"

Nevile stared at her.

"But, Kay, why on earth should you

mind.>"

Kay bit her lip.

Nevile went on:

"You

said yourself only the other

day "

"Oh, don't go into all that again! I was

talking about other people not us."

"But that's partly what made me think of

"More fool me. Not that I believe that." Nevile was lookine at her with dismay.

"But, Kay, why should you mind? I mean,

there's nothing for you to mind about!"

"Isn't there?"

"Well, I mean any jealousy or that

would be on the other side." He paused,

his voice changed. "You see, Kay, you and I treated Audrey damned badly. No, I don't

mean that. It was nothing to do with you. I

treated her very badly. It's no good just say-lng I couldn't help myself. I feel that if this

could come off I'd feel better about the whole

thing. It would make me a lot happier."

Kay said slowly:

"So you haven't been happy?"

"Darling idiot, what do you mean? Of

course I've beech happy, radiantly happy.

But "

Kay cut in.

"But that's it! There's always been a but

in this house. Some damned creeping shadow

about the place. Audrey's shadow."

Nevile stared at her.

"You mean to say you're jealous of

Audrey?" he said.

"I'm not jealous of her. I'm afraid of her.

. . . Nevile, you don't know what Audrey's

like."

"Not know what she's like when I've been

married to her for over eight years?"

"You don't know," Kay repeated, "what Audrey is like."

"Preposterous!" said Lady Tressilian. She drew herself up on her pillow and glared

fiercely round the room. "Absolutely preposterous!

Nevile must be mad."

"It does seem rather odd," said Mary

Lady Tressilian had a striking-looking proPSfie

with a slender bridged nose down which,

when so inclined, she could look with telling

effect. Though she was now over seventy

and in frail health, her native vigor of mind

was in no way impaired. She had, it is true,

long periods of retreat from life and its emotions when she would lie with half-closed

eyes, but from these semicomas she would

emerge with all her faculties sharpened to

the uttermost, and with an incisive tongue.

Propped up by pillows in a large bed set

across one corner of her room, she held her

court like some French Queen. Mary Aldin,

a distant cousin, lived with her. The two

women got on together excellently. Mary was

thirty-six, but had one of those smooth age

less faces that change little wir. h lassing years. She might have been thirty o' fo0rty-five. She

had a good figure, an air o breeding, and

dark hair to which one lock of'white across

the front gave a touch of inditifiduality. It

was at one time a fashion, btt/iary's white

lock of hair was natural and sheie had had it

since her girlhood.

She looked down now reflectiwvely at Nevile

Strange's letter which Lady Tfressilim had

handed to her.

"Yes," she said. "It does seem t rather odd."

"You can't tell me," said Lad;ly Tressilian,

"that this is Nevile's own idea! Somebody's put it into his head. Probably ti%at near wife

of his."

"Kay. You think it was Kay's idea?"

"It would be quite like he:r. New and

vulgar! If husbands and wives have to ad-vertise their difficulties in pubBlic and have

recourse to divorce, then they rrmght at least

part decently. The new wife and I the old wife

making friends is quite disgu,.sting to my

mind. Nobody has any standards aowadays!"

"I suppose it is just the medem way," said Mary.

"It won't happen in my hous%e," said Lady Tressilian. "I consider I've done a all that could

be asked of me having that scarlet-toed creature here at all."

"She is Nevile's wife."

"Exactly. Therefore I felt that Matthew

would have wished it. He was devoted to the

boy and always wanted him to look on this

as his home. Since to refuse to receive his

wife would have made an open breach, I

gave way and asked her here. I do not like

her she's quite the wrong wife for Nevile

no background, no roots!"

"She's quite well born," said Mary placatingly.

"Bad stock!" said Lady Tressilian. "Her father, as I've told you, had to resign from

all his clubs after the card business. Luckily

he died shortly after. And her mother was

notorious on the Riviera. What a bringing

up for the girl. Nothing but hotel life and

that mother! Then she meets Nevile on the

tennis courts, makes a dead set at him and

never rests until she gets him to leave his

wife of whom he was extremely fond and

go off with her! I blame her entirely for the

whole thing!"

Mary smiled faintly. Lady Tressilian had

the old-fashioned characteristic of always

blaming the woman and being indulgent towards

the man in the case.

less faces that change little with passing years. She might have been thirty or forty-five. She

had a good figure, an air of breeding, and

dark hair to which one lock of white across

the front gave a touch of individuality. It

was at one time a fashion, but Mary's white

lock of hair was natural and she had had it

since her girlhood.

She looked down now reflectively at Nevile

Strange's letter which Lady Tressi!ian, had

handed to her.

"Yes," she said. "It does seem rather odd."

"You can't tell me," said Lady Tressilian,

"that this is Nevile's own idea! Somebody's put it into his head. Probably that new wife

of his."

"Kay. You think it was Kay's idea?"

"It would be quite like her. New and

vulgar! If husbands and wives have to advertise their difficulties in public and have

recourse to divorce, then they might at least

part decently. The new wife and the old wife

making friends is quite disgusting to my

mind. Nobody has any standards nowadays?

"I suppose it is just the modem, way,"

said Mary.

"It won't happen in my house," smd Lady n-. :

:--,,T ...-..,o;,-I,

. T'x, clr n all

that

could

be asked of me having that scarlet-toed creature here at all."

"She is Nevile's wife."

"Exactly. Therefore I felt that Matthew

would have wished it. He was devoted to the

boy and always wanted him to look on this

as his home. Since to refuse to receive his

wife would have made an open breach, I

gave way and asked her here. I do not like her she's quite the wrong wife for Nevile no background, no roots!"

"She's quite well born," said Mary placatingly.

"Bad stock!" said Lady Tressilian. "Her father, as I've told you, had to resign from

all his clubs after the card business. Luckily

he died shortly after. And her mother was

notorious on the Riviera. What a bringing

up for the girl. Nothing but hotel life and

that mother! Then she meets Nevile on the

tennis courts, makes a dead set at him and

never rests until she gets him to leave his

wife of whom he was extremely fond and

go off with her! I blame her entirely for the

whole thing!"

Mary smiled faintly. Lady Tressilian had

the old-fashioned characteristic of always

blaming the woman and being indulgent towards

the man in the case.

"I suppose, strictly speaking, Nevile was

equally to blame," she suggested.

"Nevile was very much to blame," agreed Lady Tressilian. "He had a channing wife

who had always been devoted perhaps too

devoted to him. Nevertheless, if it hadn't

been for that girl's persistence, I am convinced he would have come to his senses.

But she was determined to marry him! Yes,

my sympathies are entirely with Audrey. I

am very fond of Audrey."

Mary sighed.

"It has all been very difficult," she said.

"Yes, indeed. One is at a loss to know

how to act in such difficult circumstances.

Matthew was fond of Audrey, and so am I,

and one cannot deny that she was a very

good wife to Nevile though perhaps it is a

pity that she could not have shared his

amusements more. She was never an athletic

girl. The whole business was very distressing.

When I was a girl, these things simply

did not happen. Men had their affairs, naturally, but they were not allowed to break up

married life."

"Well, they happen now," said Mary

bluntly.

"Exactly. You have so much common

sense, dear. It is of no use recalling bygone

days. These things happen, and girls like

Kay Mortimer steal other women's husbands

and nobody thinks the worse of them!"

"Except people like you, Camilla!"

"I don't count. That Kay creature doesn't

worry whether I approve of her or not. She's

too busy having a good time. Nevile can

bring her here when he comes and I'm even

willing to receive her friends though I do

not much care for that very theatrical-looking

young man who is always hanging round

her what is his name?"

"Ted Latimer?"

"That is it. A friend of her Riviera days

and I should very much like to know how he

manages to live as he does."

"By his wits," suggested Mary.

"One might pardon that. I rather fancy

he lives by his looks. Not a pleasant friend

for Nevile's wife! I disliked the way he came

down last summer and stayed at the Easter-head

Bay Hotel while they were here."

Mary looked out of the open windoW. Lady

Tressilian's house was situated on a steep

cliff overhanging the river Tern. On the other

side of the river was the newly created sum-mer resort of Easterhead Bay, consisting of a

big sandy bathing beach, a cluster of modern

bunealows and a laree hotel on the headland

looking out to sea. Saltcreek itself was a

straggling pictttresque fishing village set on

the side of a hill. It was old-fashioned, con-servafive and deeply contemptuous of Easter-head

Bay and its summer visitors.

The Easterhead Bay Hotd was nearly ex-actly

opposite Lady Tressilian's house and

Mary looked across the narrow strip of water

at it now where it stood in its blatant white

newness.

"I am glad," said Lady Tressilian, closing her eyes, "that Matthew never saw that vul-gar building. The coastline was quite unspoilt

in his time."

Sir Matthew and Lady Tressilian had come

to Gull's Point thirty years ago. It was ten

years since Sir Matthew, an enthusiastic sail-ing man, had capsized his dinghy and been

drowned almost in front of his wife's eyes.

Everybody had expected her to sell Gull's

Point and leave Saltcreek but Lady Tressilian

had not done so. She had lived on in the

house, and her only visible reaction had been

to dispose of all the boats and do away with

the boathouse. There were no boats available

for guests at Gull's Point. They had to walk

along to the ferry and hire a boat from one

of the rival boatmen there.

Marv said. hesitatine a little:

"Shall I write, then, to Nevile and tell him that what he proposes does not fit in with

your plans?"

"I certainly shall not dream of interfering with Audrey's visit. She has always come to

us in September and I shall not ask her to

change her plans."

Mary said, looking down at the letter:

"You did see that Nevile says Audrey

er approves of the idea that she is quite

willing to meet Kay?"

"I simply don't believe it," said Lady Tressilian. "Nevile, like all men, believes what he wants to believe!"

Mary persisted:

"He says he has actually spoken to her

about it."

"What a very odd thing to do! No perhaps,

after all, it isn't!"

Mary looked at her inquiringly.

"Like Henry the Eighth," said Lady Tressilian. Mary looked puzzled.

Lady Tressilian elaborated her last remark.

"Conscience, you know! Henry was always

trying to get Catherine to agree that the

divorce was the right thing. Nevile knows

that he has behaved badly he wants to feel comfortable about it all. So he has been ttwin

to bully Audrey into saying everything is all

right and that she'll ct)me and meet Kay and

that she doesn't mind at all."

"I wonder," said/lary slowly.

Lady Tressilian loked at her sharply.

"What's in your mind, my dear?"

"I was wonderings" She stopped, then

went on: "It it seems so unlike Nevile--this letter! You don't thin& that, for some reason, Audrey wants this valois meeting?"

"Why should she" said Lady Tressilian sharply. "After Neviile left her she went to her aunt, Mrs. Royqte, at the Rectory, and

had a complete brekdown. She was abso-lutely

like a ghost of her former self. Obvi-ously

it hit her terrfi.'bly hard. She's one of

those quiet, self-cortained people who feel

things intensely."

Mary moved uneasily.

"Yes, she is intemse. A queer girl in many

ways...

"She suffered a l%t Then

the divorce

went

through and Nevile married the girl

and

little by little Audrey began to get

over it. Now she's almost back to

her old self. You can't tell me slhe

wants to

rake up old memories again?"

Mary

said

with

g

:entle

obstinacy:

The old lady looked at her curiously.

"You're extraordinarily obstinate about

this, Mary. Why? Do you want to have them

here together?"

Mary Aldin flushed.

"No, of course not."

Lady Tressilian said sharply:

"It's not you who have been suggesting all this to Nevile?"

"How can you be so absurd?"

"Well, I don't believe for a minute it's

really his idea. It's not like Nevile." She paused a minute, then her face cleared. "It's the first of May tomorrow, isn't it? Well, on

the third Audrey is coming to stay with the

Darlingtons at Esbank. It's only twenty miles

away. Write and ask her to come over and

lunch here."

May 5th

"Mrs. Strange, m'lady."

Audrey Strange came into the big bed-room,

crossed the room to the big bed,

stooped down and kissed the old lady and

sat down in the chair placed ready for her.

"Nice to see you, my dear," said Lady Tressilian.

"And nice to see you," said Audrey.

There was a quality of intangibility about

Audrey Strange. She was of medium height

with very small hands and feet. Her hair was

ash blonde and there was very little color in

her face. Her eyes were set wide apart and

were a clear, pale grey. Her features were

small and regular, a straight little nose set in a small oval pale face. With such coloring,

with a face that was pretty but not beautiful,

she had nevertheless a quality about her that

could not be ignored and that drew your

eyes to her again and again. She was a little

like a ghost, but you felt at the same time

that a ghost might be possessed of more

reality than a live human being ....

She had a singularly lovely voice; soft and

clear like a small silver bell.

For some minutes she and the old lady

talked of mutual friends and current events.

Then Lady Tressilian said:

"Besides the pleasure of seeing you, my

dear, I asked you to come because I've had

rather a curious letter from Nevile."

Audrey looked up. Her eyes were wide,

tranquil and calm. She said:

"Oh, yes?"

"He suggests a preposterous suggestion,

here in September. He says he wants you

and Kay to be friends and that you yourself

think it a good idea."

She waited. Presently Audrey said in her

gentle placid voice:

"Is it so preposterous?"

"My dear--do you really want this to

happen?"

Audrey was silent again for a minute or

two, then she said gently:

"I think, you know, it might be rather a

good thing."

"You really want to meet this you want

to meet Kay?"

"I do think, Camilla, that it might, simpnfy ngs. "Simplify things!" Lady Tressilian. repeated the words helplessly.

Audrey spoke very softly.

"Dear Camilla. You have been so good. If

Nevile wants this "

"A fig for what Nevile wants!" said Lady Tressilian robustly. "Do you want it, that's the question?"

A little color came into Audrey's cheeks.

It was the soft delicate glow of a sea shell.

"Yes," she said. "I do want it."

"XVelI," said Lady Tressilian" well.."

"But, of course," said Audrey. "It is entirely your choice. It is your house and "

Lady Tressilian shut her eyes.

"I'm an old woman," she said. "Nothing makes sense any more."

"But of course I'll come some other

time Any time will suit me."

"You'll come in September as you always

do," snapped Lady Tressilian. "And Nevile and Kay shall come too. I may be old but

I can adapt myself, I suppose, as well as

anyone else, to the changing phases of modern

life. Not another word, that's settled."

She closed her eyes again. After a minute

or two she said, peering through half-shut

lids at the young woman sitting beside her:

"Well, got what you want?"

Audrey started.

"Oh, yes, yes. Thank you."

"My dear," said Lady Tressilian, and her voice was deep and concerned, "are you sure this isn't going to hurt you? You were very

fond of Nevile, you know. This may reopen

old wounds."

Audrey was looking down at her small

gloved hands. One of them, Lady Tressilian

noticed, was clenched on the side of the bed.

Audrey lifted her head. Her eyes were

calm and untroubled.

She said:

"All that is quite over now. Quite over."

Lady Tressilian leaned more heavily back

on her pillows.

"Well you should know. I'm tired you

must leave me now, dear. Mary is waiting

for you downstairs. Tell them to send Barrett

to me.

Barrett was Lady Tressilian's elderly and

devoted maid.

She came in to find her mistress lying

back with closed eyes.

"The sooner I'm out of this world the

better, Barrett," said Lady Tressilian. "I don't understand anythng or anyone in it."

"Ah! don't say that, my lady, you're tired."

"Yes, I'm tired. Take that eiderdown off

my feet and give me a dose of my tonic."

"It's Mrs. Strange coming that upset you.

A nice lady, but she could do with a tonic,

I'd say. Not healthy. Always looks as though

she's seeing things other people don't see.

But she's got a lot of character. She makes

herself felt, as you might say."

"That's very tree, Barrett," said Lady Tressilian."Yes, that's very true."

"And she's not the kind you forget easily, either. I've often wondered if Mr. Nevile

thinks about her sometimes. The new Mrs.

Strange is very handsome very handsome

indeed but Miss Audrey is the kind you

remember when she isn't there."

Lady

Tressilian said with a sudden

chuckle:

"Nevile's a fool to want to bring those two women together. He's the one who'll be sorry

for it!"

May 29th

I1

Thomas Royde, pipe in mouth, was surveying

the progress of his packing with which

the deft-fmgered Malayan No. 1 boy was

busy. Occasionally his glance shifted to the

view over the plantations. For some six

months he would not see that view which

had been so familiar for the past seven years.

It would be queer to be in England again.

Allen Drake, his partner, looked in.

'"Hullo, Thomas, how goes it?"

"All set now."

"Come and have a drink, you lucky devil.

I'm consumed with envy."

Thomas Royde moved slowly out of the

bedroom and joined his friend. He did not

speak, for Thomas Royde was a man sin

learned to gauge his reactions correctly from

the quality of his silences.

A rather thickset figure, with a straight

solemn face and observant thoughtful eyes.

He walked a little sideways, crablike. This,

the result of being jammed in a door during

an earthquake, had contributed towards his

nickname of the Hermit Crab. It had left

his right arm and shoulder partially helpless

which, added to an artificial stiffness of gait, often led people to think he was feeling shy

and awkward when in reality he seldom felt

anything of the kind.

Allen Drake mixed the drinks.

"Well," he said. "Good hunting!"

Royde said something that sounded like

Drake looked at him curiously.

"Phlegmatic as ever," he remarked.

"Don't know how you manage it. How long

is it since you went home?"

"Seven years--nearer eight."

"It's a long time. Wonder you haven't

gone completely native."

"Perhaps I have."

"You always did belong to Our Dumb

Friends rather than to the human race!

Planned out your leave?"

"Well yes--partly."

The bronze impassive face took a sudden

and a deeper brick red tinge.

Allen Drake said with lively astonishment:

"I believe there's a girl! Damn it all, you are blushing!"

Thomas Royde said rather huskily:

"Don't be a fool!"

And he drew very hard on his ancient

pipe.

He broke all previous records by continu-ing

the conversation himself.

"Daresay," he said, "I shall find things a bit changed.'

Allen Drake asked curiously:

"I've always wondered why you chucked

going home last time. Right at the last

minute, too."

Royde shrugged his shoulders.

"Thought that shooting trip might be in-teresting. Bad news from home about then."

"Of course. I forgot. Your brother was

killed in that motoring accident."

Thomas Royde nodded.

Drake reflected that, all the same, it

seemed a curious reason for putting off a

journey home. There was a mother he be-lieved,

a sister also. Surely at such a time

had canceled his passage before the news of

his brother's death arrived.

Allen looked at his friend curiously. Dark

horse, old Thomas?

After a lapse of three years he could ask:

"You and your brother great pals?"

"Adrian and I? Not particularly. Each of

us always went his own way. He was a bar-rister.''

"Yes," thought Drake, "a very different life. Chambers in London, parties, a living

earned by the shrewd use of the tongue." He reflected that Adrian Royde must have been

a very different chap from old Silent Thomas.

"Your mother's alive, isn't she?"

"The Mater? Yes."

"And you've got a sister, too."

Thomas shook his head.

"Oh, I thought you had. In that snap-shot.

"

Royde mumbled. "Not a sister. Sort of

distant cousin or something. Brought up with

us because she was an orphan."

Once more a slow tide of color suffused

the bronzed skin.

Drake thought, "Hello.. -o.

He said: "Is she married?"

"She was. Married that

fellow Nevile

"Fellow who plays tennis and rackets and

all that?"

"Yes. She divorced him."

"And you're going home to try your luck

with her," thought Drake.

Mercifully he changed the subject of the

conversation.

"Going to get any fishing or shooting?"

"Shall go home first. Then I thought of

doing a bit of sailing down at Saltcreek."

"I know it. Attractive little place. Rather a decent old-fashioned hotel there."

"Yes. The Balmoral Court. May stay there,

or may put up with friends who've got a

house there."

"Sounds all right to me."

"Ah hum. Nice peaceful place, Saltcreek.

Nobody to hustle you."

"I know," said Drake. "The kind of place where nothing ever happens."

June 16th

"It is really most annoying," said old Mr. Treves. "For twenty-five years now I have

been to the Marine Hotel at Leahead and

now, would you believe it, the whole place

is being pulled down. Widening the front

or some nonsense of that kind. Why they

can't let these seaside places alone Leahead

always had a peculiar charm of its own

Regency--pure Regency."

Sir Rufus Lord said consolingly:

"Still, there are other places to stay there, I suppose?"

"I really don't feel I can go to Leahead at all. At the Marine, Mrs. Mackay understood

my requirements perfectly. I had the same

rooms every year and there was hardly ever

a change in the service. And the cooking was

excellent quite excellent."

"What about trying Saltcreek? There's

rather a nice old-fashioned hotel there. The

Balmoral Court. Tell you who keeps it.

Couple of the name of Rogers. She used to

be cook to old Lord Mounthead he had the

best dinners in London. She married the

butler and they run this hotel now. It sounds

to me just your kind of place. Quiet none

of these jazz bands and first-class cooking

and service."

"It's an idea it's certainly an idea. Is there a sheltered terrace?"

"Yes a covered-in verandah and a ter-race

beyond. You can get sun or shade as

you prefer. I can give you some intro-ductions

in the neighborhood, too, if you

like. There's old Lad, Tressilian she lives

almost next door. A c}tarming house and she

herself is a delightful woman in spite of

being very much of a invalid."

"The judge's wido% do you mean?"

"That's it."

"I used to know h4atthew Tressilian, and

I think I've met her. A charming woman

though of course that's a long time ago.

Saltcreek is near St. Loo, isn't it? I've several friends in that part of the world. Do you

know, I really think 8altcreek is a very good

idea. I shall write and get particulars. The

middle of August is when I wish to go there

the middle of August to the middle of

September. There is a garage for the car, I

suppose? And my chauffeur?"

"Oh, yes. It's thoroughly up to date."

"Because, as you know, I have to be careful about walking ut) hill. I should prefer

rooms on the ground floor, though I suppose

there is a lift."

"Oh, yes, all that sort of thing."

"It sounds," said Mr. Treves, "as though it would solve my problem perfectly. And

I should enjoy renewing my acquaintance

with Lady Tressilian."

July 28th

Kay Strange, dressed in shorts and a canary-colored woolly, was leaning forward watch-ing

the tennis players. It was the semifinal of

the tournament, men's singles, and Nevile

was playing young Merrick who was regarded

as the coming star in the tennis firmament.

His brilliance was undeniable some of his

serves quite unreturnable but he occasion-ally

struck a wild patch when the older man's

experience and court craft won the day.

The score was three-all in the pounds al set.

Slipping onto a seat next to Kay, Ted

Latimer observed in a lazy, ironic voice:

"Devoted wife watches her husband slash

his way to victory!"

Kay started.

"How you startled me. I didn't know you

were there."

"I am always there. You should know that

by this time."

Ted Latimer was twenty-five and ex-tremely

good looking even though unsym-pathetic

old colonds were wont to say of

'Touch of the Dago!"

He was dark and beautifully sunburned

and a wonderful dancer.

like. There's old Lady Tressilian she lives

almost next door. A charming house and she

herself is a delightful woman in spite of

being very much of an invalid."

"The judge's widow, do you mean?"

"That's it."

"I used to know Matthew Tressilian, and

I think I've met her. A charming woman

though of course that's a long time ago.

Saltcreek is near St. Loo, isn't it? I've sev-eral friends in that part of the world. Do you

know, I really think Saltcreek is a very good

idea. I shall write and get particulars. The

middle of August is when I wish to go there

the middle of August to the middle of

September. There is a garage for the car, I

suppose? And my chauffeur?"

"Oh, yes. It's thoroughly up to date."

"Because, as you know, I have to be care-ful about walking up hill. I should prefer

rooms on the ground floor, though I suppose

there is a lift."

"Oh, yes, all that sort of thing."

"It sounds," said Mr. Treves, "as though

it would solve my problem perfectly. And

I should enjoy renewing my acquaintance

with Lady Tressilian."

Kay Strange, dressed in shorts and a canary-colored woolly, was leaning forward watch-ing

the tennis players. It was the semif'mal of

the tournament, men's singles, and Nevile

was playing young Merrick who was regarded

as the coming star in the tennis firmament.

His brilliance was undeniable some of his

serves quite unreturnable but he occasion-ally

struck a wild patch when the older man's

experience and court craft won the day.

The score was three-all in the f'mal set.

Slipping onto a seat next to Kay, Ted

Latimer observed in a lazy, ironic voice:

"Devoted wife watches her husband slash

his way to victory!"

Kay started.

"How you startled me. I didn't know you

were there."

"I am always there. You should know that

by this time."

Ted Latimer was

tremely good looking

pathetic old colonels

him:

twenty-five and ex

even

though unsym-were

wont to say of

"Touch of the Dago!"

He was dark and beautifully sunburned

and a wonderful dancer.

His dark eyes could be very eloquent, and

he managed his voice with the assurance

of an actor. Kay had known him since she

was fifteen. They had oiled and sunned

themsdves at Juan-les-Pins, had danced together and played tennis together. They had

been not only friends but allies.

Young Merrick was serving from the left

hand court. Nevile's return was unplayable,

a superb shot to the extreme corner.

"Nevile's backhand is good," said Ted.

"It's better than his forehand. Merrick's weak on the backhand and Nevile knows it. He's

going to pound at it all he knows how."

The game ended. "Four-three--Strange

leads."

He took the next game on his service.

Young Merrick was hitting out wildly. "Five-three."

"Good for Nevile," said Latimer.

And then the boy pulled himself together.

His play became cautious. He varied the pace

of his shots.

"He's got a head on him," said Ted. "And his footwork is lb:st class. It's going to be a fight."

Slowly the boy pulled up to five-all. Then

went to seven-all and Merrick finally won

N.evile .came up to the net, grinning and

shaking his head ruefully, to shake hands.

Youth tells, smd Ted Laumer.

"Nineteen against thirty-three. But I can tell

you the reason,

Kay, why. Nevfle has never

been actually championship class. He's too

good a loser."

"Nonsense."

"It isn't. Nevfle, blast him i

...... , - - , o ,y me

c.ompete .gooa sportsman. I've never seen

him lose his temper over losing a match."

"Of course not," said Kay. "People don't."

"Oh, yes, they do! We've all

seen em.

Tennis stars who give way to nerves and

who damn well

snatch every advantage. But

old Nevile he's always ready to take the

count

and grin. Let the best man win and

all that. God, how I hate the public-school

spirit! Thank the Lord I never went to one." Kay turned her head.

"Being rather spiteful, aren't you?"

"Positively feline!"

"I wish you wouldn't make it so clear you

don't like Nevile."

"Why should I Like him? He pinched my

His eyes lingered on her.

"Quite so. Not even the proverbial tup-pence a year between us."

"Shut up. I fell in love with Nevile and

"And he's a jolly good fellow

all of us!"

"Are you trying to annoy me?"

and so say

She turned her head as she asked the ques-tion. He smiled and presently she returned

his smile.

"How's the summer going, Kay?"

"So, so. Lovely yachting trip. I'm rather

tired of all this tennis business."

"How long have you got of it? Another

month?"

"Yes. Then in September we go to Gull's

Point for a fortnight."

"I shall be at the Easterhead Bay Hotd," said Ted. "I've booked my room."

"It's going to be a lovely party!" said Kay.

"Nevile and I, and Nevile's Ex, and some

Malayan planter who's home on leave."

"That does sound hilarious!"

"And the dowdy cousin, of course. Slav-ing away around that unpleasant old woman

and she won't get anything for it, either,

since the money comes to me and Nevile."

"Perhaps," said Ted, "she doesn't know that?"

"That would be rather funny," said Kay. But she spoke absently.

She stared down at the racket she was

twiddling in her hands. She caught her breath

suddenly.

"Oh, Ted!"

"What's the matter, sugar?"

"I don't know. It's just sometimes I get

I get cold feet! I get scared and feel queer."

"That doesn't sound like you, Kay."

"It doesn't, does it? Anyway," she smiled rather uncertainly, "you'll be at the Eas-terhead Bay Hotel."

"All according to plan."

When Kay met Nevile outside the changing

rooms, he said:

"I see the boy friend's arrived."

"Ted?"

"Yes, the faithful dog or faithful liTard

might be more apt."

"You don't like him, do you?"

"Oh, I don't mind him. If it amuses you

to pull him around on a string

"

He shrugged his shoulders.

Kay said:

"I believe you're jealous."

"Of Latimer?" His surprise was genuine. Kay said:

"Ted's suttosed to be very attractive."

"I'm sure he is. He has that lithe South

American charm."

"You are jealous."

Nevile gave her arm a friendly squeeze.

"No, I'm not, gorgeous. You can have

your tame adorers a whole court of them

if you like. I'm the man in possession and

possession is Nine points of the law."

"You're very sure of yourself," said Kay with a slight pout.

"Of course. You and I are Fate. Fate let

us meet. Fate brought us together. Do you

remember when we met at Cannes and I was

going on to Estoril and suddenly, when I

got there, the first person I saw was lovely

and that

Kay! I knew then that it was Fate

I couldn't escape."

"It wasn't exactly Fate," said was me I"

Kay. "It

"What do you mean by 'it was me'?"

"Because it was! You see, I heard you say

in the hotel you were going to Estoril, so I

set to work on Mums and got her all worked

up and that's why the first person you saw

when you got there was Kay."

Nevile looked at her with a rather curious

expression. He said slowly: "You never told me that before."

"No, because it wouldn't have been ood

for you. It might have made you conceited!

But I always have been good at planning.

Things don t happen unless you make them!

You call me a nitwit sometimes .but in my

own way I'm quite clever. I make things

happen. Sometimes I have to plan a long

way beforehand."

"The brainwork must be intense."

"It's all very well to laugh."

Nevile said with a sudden curious bitterness,

"Am I just beginning to understand

the woman I've married? For Fate read

Kay?

Kay said:

"You're not cross, are you, Nevile?"

He said rather absently:

"No no, of course not. I was just thinking "

August loth

"And bang goes my holiday," said Superintendent Battle disgustedly.

Mrs. Battle was disappointed, but long

years as the wife of a police officer had predeg

pared her to take disappointments philosophicallv.

"Oh, well," she said, "it can't be helped. And I suppose it/s an interesting case?"

"Not so that you'd notice it," said Superintendent Battle. "It's got the Foreign Office

in a twitter all those tall, thin young men

rushing about and saying Hush Hush here,

there and everywhere. It'll straighten out easy enough and we shall save everybody's face.

But it's not the kind of case I'd put in my

Memoirs, supposing I was ever foolish

enough to write any."

"We could put our holiday off, I suppose

"began Mrs. Battle doubtfully but

her husband interrupted her decisively.

"Not a bit of it. You and the girls go off to Brifiington the rooms have been booked

since March pity to waste them. I tell you

what I'll do go down and spend a week

with Jim when this blows over."

Jim was Superintendent Battle's nephew,

Inspector James Leach.

"Saltington's quite close to Easterhead Bay and Saltcreek," he went on. "I can get a bit of sea air and a dip in the briny."

Mrs. Battle sniffed.

"More likely he'll rope you in to help him over a case I"

"They don't have any cases this time of

the year unless it's a woman who 3inche.q

IF

few sixpennyworths, from Woolworth's;

d anyway Jim's all right--he doesn't neect

his wits sharpened for him."

"Oh, well," said Mrs. Battle. "I suppose it will work out all right but it is disappoint

"These things are sent to try us," Superintendent Battle assured her.

Snow White nd Rose Red

Thomas Royde fun Mary Aldin waiting

for him on the platforn at Saltington when

he got out of the traits.

He had only a tim recollection of her and

now that he saw her again, he was rather

surpfisedly aware of'pleasure at her brisk

capable way of de!in, with things.

She called him by his Christian name

"How race to see .-you, Thomas. After all these years."

"Nice of you to Pttut me up. Hope it isn't a bother."

"Not at all. On the contrary. You'll be

particularly welctmee' Is that your porter?

Tell him to bring the things out this way.

I've got the car right .t at the end."

The bags were stc:owed in the Ford* Mary

took the wheel arid Il Royde got in beside her. They drove off ad 'Thomas noticed that she

...,, , ,,-,,-,,-I rlv4,,, .a rL --.,,.1 ..,,,.,fid in traffic

and with a nice judgment of distance and

spaces.

Saltington was seven miles from Saltcreek.

Once they were out of the small market town

and on the open road, Mary Aldin reopened

the subject of his visit.

"Really, Thomas, your visit just now is

going to be a godsend. Things are rather

difficult and a stranger or rather an outsider

is just what is needed."

"What's the trouble?"

His manner, as always, was incurious

almost lazy. He asked the question, it

seemed, more from politeness than because

he had any desire for the information. It was

a manner particularly soothing to Mary

Aldin. She wanted badly to talk to someone

but she much preferred to talk to someone

who was not too much interested.

She said:

"Well we've got rather a difficult situation. Audrey is here, as you probably

know?"

She paused questioningly and Thomas

nodded.

"And Nevile and his wife too."

Thomas Royde's eyebrows went up. He

after a minute or two:

"Bit awkward what?"

"Yes, it is. It was all Nevilelle's idea." She paused. Royde did noot speak, but as

though aware of some curremat of disbelief issuing from him, she repeated fl assertively:

"It was Nevile's idea."

"Why?"

She raised her hands for a moment from

the steering wheel.

"Oh, some modern reacfioion! All sensible

and friends together. That iclfiea. But I don't think, you know, it's workinSSg very well."

"Possibly it mightn't." He added, "What's the new wife like?"

"Kay? Good looking, of'course. Really

very good looking. And quitee young."

"And Nevile's keen on herr?"

"Oh, yes. Of course the-;y've only been

married a year and a half."

Thomas Royde turned hiss head slowly to

look at her. His mouth smiled a little. Mary

said hastily:

"I didn't mean that exactl3y."

"Come now, Mary. I you did."

"Well, one can't help seeiing that they've really got very little in common. Their

friends, for instance "She ocame to a stop. Royde asked:

"l-Iv-met her. didn't he. on the Riviera?

I don't know much about it. Only just the

bare facts that the Mater wrote."

"Yes, they met first at Cannes. Nevile was attracted but I should imagine he'd been

attracted before in a harmless sort of way.

I still think myself that if he'd been left to

himself nothing would have come of it. He

was fond of Audrey, you know?"

Thomas nodded.

Mary went on:

"I don't think he wanted to break up his

marriage I'm sure he didn't. But the girl

was absolutely determined. She wouldn't rest

until she'd got him to leave his wife and

what's a man to do under those circum-stances?

It flatters him, of course."

"Head over ears in love with him, was

she?"

"I suppose it may have been that."

Mary's tone sounded doubtful. She met

his inquiring glance with a flush.

"What a cat I am! There's a young man

always hanging about good looking in a

gigolo kind of way an old friend of hers

and I can't help wondering sometimes

whether the fact that Nevile is very well off

and distinguished and all that didn't have

something to do with it. The girl hadn't a

:ennv of her own, I gather."

She paused, looking rather ashamed.

Thomas Royde merely said: "Um-hum," in a speculative voice.

"However," said Mary, "that's probably plain cat! The girl is what one would call

glamorous and that probably rouses the

feline instincts of middle-aged spinsters."

Royde looked thoughtfully at her, but his

poker face showed no recognizable reaction.

He said, after a minute or two:

"What, exactly, is the present trouble

about?"

"Really, you know, I haven't the least ideal That's what's so odd. Naturally we consulted

Audrey first and she seemed to have no

feeling against meeting Kay--she was charm-ing

about it all. She has been charming. No

one could have been nicer. Audrey, of course,

in everything she does is always just right.

Her manner to them both is perfect. She's

very reserved, as you know, and one never

has any idea of what she is really thinking

or feeling but honestly I don't believe she

minds at all."

"No reason why she should," said Thomas Royde. He added rather belatedly, "After

all, it's three years ago."

"Do people like Audrey forget? She was

very fond of Nevile."

Thomas Royde shifted in his seat.

"She's only thirty-two. Got her life in front of her."

"Oh, I know. But she did take it hard.

She had quite a bad nervous breakdown, you

knOW."

"I know. The Mater wrote me."

"In a way," said Mary, "I think it was good for your mother to have Audrey to

look after. It took her mind off her own grief

about your brother's death. We were so

sorry about that."

"Yes. Poor old Adrian. Always did drive

too fast."

There was a pause. Mary stretched out

her hand as a sign she was taking the turn

that led down the hill to Saltcreek.

Presently, as they were slipping down the

narrow twisting road, she said:

"Thomas you know Audrey very well?"

"So, so. Haven't seen much of her for the

last ten years."

"No, but you knew her as a child. She

was like a sister to you and Adrian?"

He nodded.

"Was she was she at all unbalanced in

any way? Oh, I don't mean that quite the

way it sounds. But I've a feeling that there

is something very wrong with her now. She's

so completely detached, her poise is so unnaturally perfect but I wonder sometimes

what is going on behind the faqade. I've a

feeling, now and then, of some really powerful

emotion. And I don't quite know what

it is! But I do feel that she isn't normal.

There's something! It worries me. I do know

that there's an atmosphere in the house

that affects everybody. We're all nervous and

jumpy. But I don't know what it is. And

sometimes, Thomas, it frightens me."

"Frightens you?" His slow wondering tone made her pull herself together with a little nervous laugh.

"It does sound absurd .... But that's

what I meant just now your arrival will be

good for us create a diversion. Ah, here we

are.

They had slipped round the last corner.

Gull's Point was built on a plateau of

rock overlooking the river. On two sides it

had sheer cliff going down to the water. The

gardens and tennis court were on the left

of the house. The garage a modem afterthought

was actually further along the road,

on the other side of it.

Mary said:

"I'll put the car away now and come back.

Hurstall, the aged butler, was greeting

Thomas with the pleasure of an old friend.

"Very glad to see you, Mr. Royde, after

all these years. And so will her ladyship be.

You're in the East Room, sir. I think you'll

f'md everyone in the garden, unless you want

to go to your room first."

Thomas shook his head. He went through

the drawing room and up to the window

which opened onto the terrace. He stood

there a moment, watching, unobserved himself.

Two women were the only occupants of

the terrace. One was sitting on the corner

of the balustrade looking out over the water.

The other woman was watching her.

The fzrst was Audrey--the other, he knew,

must be Kay Strange. Kay did not know she

was being looked over and she took no pains

to disguise her expression. Thomas Royde

was not, perhaps, a very observant man

where women were concerned, but he could

not fail to notice that Kay Strange disliked

Audrey Strange very much.

As for Audrey, she was looking out across

the river and seemed unconscious of, or indifferent to, the other's presence.

It was over seven years since Thomas had

very carefullt. Had she changed, an,nd, if so,

in what way!

There wala change, he decided. She was

.thinner, paler, altogether more ether:eal look-rog. but re was something elsee, something

he cold not quite define. Itl.t was as

though she were holding herself tiia'ghtly in

leash, watc.thg over every movement and

yet all the the intensely aware of exrerything

going on rohad her. She was like aa person,

he thought, who had a secret to lrdde. But

what secret.: He knew a little of thae events

that had betllen her in the last fe'-'w years.

He had bee prepared for lines of sorrow

and loss bht this was something eelse. She

was like a Child who, by a tightly .clenched

hand over a treasure, calls attention, to what

it wants to hide.

And the his eyes went to te other

woman the girl who was now' Nevile

Strange's W/re' Beautiful, yes. MaY Aldin

had been fight. He rather fancied dagerous,

too. He %ght: ffI wouldn't like to .thrust

her near XMrey she had a knife m her

hand ....

And yet Xhv should she hate Nev'ile's first

wife? All t

tll was over and. doae. W..lth.

Audrey had no part or parcel m tlaexr lives

nowadays.

Footsteps rang out on the terrace, as

Nevile came round the corner of the house.

He looked warm and was carrying a picture

paper.

"Here's the Illustrated Review," he said.

"Couldn't get the other "

Then two things happened at precisely the

same minute.

Kay said: "Oh, good, give it to me," and Audrey, without moving her head, held out

her hand almost absentmindedly.

Nevile had stopped halfway between the

two women. A dawn of embarrassment

showed in his face. Before he could speak,

Kay said, her voice rising with a slight note

of hysteria:

"I want it. Give it to me! Give it to me,

Nevile!"

Audrey Strange started, turned her head,

withdrew her hand and murmured with just

the slightest air of confusion:

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were speaking

to me, Nevile."

Thomas Royde saw the color come up

brick red in Nevile Strange's neck. He took

three quick steps forward and held out the

picture paper to Audrey.

She said, hesitating, her air of embarrassment

rowinm

"Oh, but "

Kay pushed back her chair with a rough

movement. She stood up, then, turning, she

made for the drawing-room window. Royde

had no time to move before she had charged

into him blindly.

The shock made her recoil; she looked at

him as he apologized. He saw then why she

had not seen him, her eyes were brimming

with tears tears, he fancied, of anger.

"Hullo," she said. "Who are you? Oh! of course, the man from Malay!"

"Yes," said Thomas. "I'm the man from Malay."

"I wish to God I was in Malay," said Kay.

"Anywhere but here! I loathe this beastly

lousy house! I loathe everyone in it!"

Emotional scenes always alarmed Thomas.

He regarded Kay warily and murmured ner-vously:

"Unless they're careful," said Kay, "I shall kill someone! Either Nevile or that whey-faced

cat out there!"

She brushed past him and went out of the

room banging the door.

Thomas Royde stood stock still. He was

not quite sure what to do next, but he

was elad that voune Mrs. Stranee had eone.

He stood and looked at the door that she had

slammed so vigorously. Something of a tiger

cat, the new Mrs. Strange.

The window was darkened as Nevile

Strange paused in the space between the

French doors. He was breathing rather fast.

He greeted Thomas vaguely.

"Oh er hullo, Royde, didn't know

you'd arrived. I say, have you seen my wife?"

"She passed through about a minute ago," said the other.

Nevile in lais turn went out through the

drawing-room door. He was looking annoyed.

Thomas Royde went slowly through the

open window. He was not a heavy walker.

Not until he was a couple of yards away, did

Audrey turn her head.

Then he saw those wide-apart eyes open,

saw her lips part. She slipped down from the

wall and came towards him, hands outstretched.

"Oh, Thomas," she said. "Dear Thomas!

How glad I a you've come."

As he took the two small white hands

in his and bet down to her, Mary Aldin in

her turn arrived at the French windows. Seeing

the two on the terrace she checked herself,

watched them for a moment or two,

then slowlvllened away and went back into

the house..e.

II

Upstairs, --ltde had found Kay in her bedroom.

Th,aeoy large double bedroom in the

house wasps Ldy Tressilian's. A married couple

were : ys given the two rooms with

communi-cg door and a small bathroom

beyond OlXC/ west side of the house. It was

a small iscoted suite.

Nevile I; lsed through his own room and

on into t-daisrife's. Kay had flung herself

down on lvhC/Ibed. Raising a tear-stained face,

she cried c out mgrily:

"So yottzu've come! About time, too!"

"What jl this fuss about? Have you

gone q.uite0zy, Kay?"

I

Nevile slle quietly, but there was.a dint

I

at the com,rer of his nostril that regastered

restrained ger.

"Why ct:d you give that Illustrated Review

to her andll of to me?"

"Really, by, you are a child! All this fuss

about a wretch, ed little picture paper."

I

"You g;::ae it to her and not to me," re

rmated

Ka--tv bstinatelv'

"Well, why not? What does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

"I don't know what's wrong with you.

You can't behave in this hysterical fash-ion

when you're staying in other people's

houses. Don't you know how to behave in

public?"

"Why did you give it to Audrey?"

"Because she wanted it."

"So did I, and I'm your wife."

"All the more reason, in that case, for

giving it to an older woman and one who,

technically, is no relation."

"She scored off me! She wanted to and

she did. You were on her si&l"

"You're talking like an idiotic jealous child. For goodness' sake, control yourself, and try

and behave properly in public!"

"Like she does, I suppose?"

Nevile said coldly:

"At any rate Audrey can behave like a

lady. She doesn't make an exhibition of

herself."

"She's mining you against me! She hates

me and she's getting her revenge."

"Look here, Kay, will you stop being

melodramatic and completely foolish? I'm fed

up!"

"Then let's go away from here! Let's go

tomorrow. I hate this place!"

"We've only been here four days.',

"It's quite enough! Do let's go, Nevile."

"Now look here, Kay, I've had enough of

this. We came here for a fortnight and I'm going to stay for a fortnight."

"If you do," said Kay, "you'll be sorry. You and your Audrey! You think she' won-defful!"

"I don't think Audrey is wonderful. I think she's an extremely nice and kindly laerson

whom I've treated very badly and wlho has

been most generous and forgiving."

"That's where you're wrong," saidt Kay. She got up from the bed. Her fury had died

down. She spoke seriously almost so;berly.

"Audrey hasn't forgiven you, Nevil. Once

or twice I've seen her looking at youy . . . I

don't know what is going on in her miind but

something is She's the kind that , doesn't

let anyone know what they're thinkintg."

"It's a pity," said Nevile, "that ther,:e aren't more people like that."

Kay's face went very white.

"Do you mean that for me?" Therxe was a dangerous edge to her voice.

"Well you haven't shown mucx:h retio -oneo-have yom? Every bit of ill temnner and

spite that comes into your mind you blurt

straight out. You make a fool of yourself and

you make a fool of me!"

"Anything more to say?"

Her voice was icy.

He said in an equally cold tone:

"I'm sorry if you think that was unfair.

But it's the plain troth. You've no more

self-control than a child."

"You never lose your temper, do you?

Always the self-controlled chamg-mannered

little pukka sahib! I don't believe

you've got any feelings. You're just a fish a

damned cold-blooded fish.t Why don't you

let yourself go now and then? Why don't

you shout at me, swear at me, tell me to go

to hell?"

Nevile sighed. His shoulders sagged.

"Oh, Lord," he said.

Turning on his heel he left the room.

III

"You look exactly as you did at seventeen, Thomas Royde," said Lady Tressilian. "Just the same owlish look. And no more conver-sation now than you had then. Why not?"

Thomas said vaeuelv:

"I dunno. Never had the gift of the gab."

"Not like Adrian. Adrian was a very clever and witty talker."

"Perhaps that's why. Always left the talking to him."

"Poor Adrian. So much promise."

Thomas nodded.

Lady Tressilian changed her subject. She

was granting an audience to Thomas. She

usually preferred her visitors one at a time.

It did not tire her and she was able to concentrate her attention on them.

"You've been here twenty-four hours," she said. "What do you think of our Situation?"

"Situation?"

"Don't look stupid. You do that deliberately. You know quite well what I mean.

The eternal triangle which has established

itself under my roof."

Thomas said cautiously:

"Seems a bit of friction."

Lady Tressilian .smiled rather diabolically.

"I will confess to you, Thomas, I am rather enjoying myself. This came about through

no wish of mine indeed I did my utmost

to prevent it. Nevile was obstinate. He would

insist on bringing these two together .and

now he is reaping what he has sown!"

Thomas Rovde .hifted a little in hi. chair

"Seems funny," he said.

"Elucidate," snapped Lady Tressilian.

"Shouldn't have thought Strange was that

kind of chap."

"It's interesting your saying that. Because it is what I felt. It was uncharacteristic of

Nevile. Nevile, like most men, is usually

anxious to avoid any kind of embarrassment

or possible unpleasantness. I suspected that

it wasn't originally Nevile's idea but, if not, I don't see whose idea it can have been."

She paused and said with only the slight-est

upward inflection, "It wouldn't be

Audrey's?"

Thomas said promptly, "No, not Audrey."

"And I can hardly believe it was that

unfortunate young woman, Kay's, idea. Not

unless she is a really remarkable actress.

You know, I have almost felt sorry for her

lately."

"You don't like her much, do you?"

"No. She seems to me empty-headed and

lacking in any kind of poise. But as I say, I

do begin to feel sorry for her. She is blun-dering about like a daddy long-legs in lamp-light.

She has no idea of what weapons to

use. Bad temper, bad manners, childish rude-ness all things which have a most unfortu-nate

effect unon a man lilro Nloxr;!o"

Thomas said quietly:

"I think Audrey is the one who is in a

difficult position."

Lady Tressilian gave a sharp glance.

"You've always been in love with Audrey,

haven't you, Thomas?"

His reply was quite impe:rmrbable.

"Suppose I have."

"Practically from the tie you were children together?"

He nodded.

"And then Nevile came along and carried

her off from under your nose?"

He moved uneasily in his chair.

"Oh, well---I always laew I hadn't a

chance."

"Defeatist," said Lady T'ressilian.

"I always have been a doll dog."

"Dobbin?

"Good old Thomas! .that's what Audrey

feels about me."

"'True Thomas,'" said Lady Tressilian.

"That was your nickname, wasn't it?"

He smiled as the words brought back

memories of childish days.

"Funny! I haven't heard that for years."

"It might stand you in good stead now,"

-id 1 .adv Tressilian.

She met his glance clearly and deliber-ately.

"Fidelity," she said, "is a quality that any-one who has been through Audrey's experi-ence

might appreciate. The doglike devotion

of a lifetime, Thomas, does sometimes get its

reward."

Thomas Royde looked down, his fingers

fumbled with a pipe.

"That," he said, "is what I came home hoping."

IV

"So here we all are," said Mary Aldin.

Hurstall, the old butler, wiped his fore-head.

When he went into the kitchen, Mrs.

Spicer, the cook, remarked upon his expres-sion.

"I don't think I can be well and that's the truth," said Hurstall. "If I can so express myself, everything that's said and done in

this house lately seems to me to mean some-thing that's different from what it sounds

like if you know what I mean?"

Mrs. Spicer did not seem to know what he

meant, so Hurstall went on:

"Miss Aldin, now, as they all sat down to

dinner she says 'So here we all are' and

just that gave me a turn! Made me think of a

trainer who's got a lot of wild animals into

a cage, and then the cage door shuts. I felt,

all of a sudden, as though we were all caught

in a trap."

"Law, Mr. Hurstall," said Mrs. Spicer.

"You must have eaten something that's

disagreed."

"It's not my digestion. It's the way every-one's strung up. The front door banged just

now and Mrs. Strange our Mrs. Strange,

Miss Audrey she jumped as though she had

been shot. And there's the silences, too. Very

queer they are. It's as though, all of a sud-den, everybody's afraid to speak. And then

they all break out at once just saying the

things that first come into their heads."

"Enough to make anyone embarrassed,"

said Mrs. Spicer. "Two Mrs. Stranges in the house. What I feel is, it isn't decent."

In the dining room, one of those silences

that Hurstall had described was proceeding.

It was with quite an effort that Mary Aldin

turned to Kay and said:

"I asked your friend, Mr. Latimer, to dine tomorrow night!"

"Oh, good," said Kay.

Nevile said:

"Latimer? Is he down here?"

"He's staying at the Easterhead Bay

Hotel," said Kay.

Nevile said:

"We might go over and dine there one

night. How late does the ferry go?"

"Until half past one," said Mary.

"I suppose they dance there in the

evenings?"

"Most of the people are about a hundred," said Kay.

"Not very amusing for your friend," said Nevile to Kay.

Mary said quickly:

"We might go over and bathe one day at

Easterhead Bay. It's quite warm still and it's

a lovely sandy beach."

Thomas Royde said in a low voice to

Audrey:

"I thought of going out sailing tomorrow.

Will you come?"

"I'd like to."

"We might all go sailing," said Nevile.

"I thought you said you were going to

play golf," said Kay.

"I did think of going over to the links.

I was right off my wooden shots the other

day."

Nevile said Rood huna,o, redly:

"Golf's a tric game.

a

kea Cay

"Yes--after fashion.

Nevile said:

"Kay woulct be very good if she to, ok a

little trouble. le's got natural swing.

Kay said ta ]udrey:

"You don't olay any games, do you?"

"Not reallyri play tetmis after a fashion

but I'm a cortholete rablit."

"Do you 01 play me pxano, Audrey?"

asked Thoma..

She shook lhtr head.

"Not nowaxdays."

"You usel to play rather well," said

Nevile.

"I thought: you didn't like music, Nevile,"

said Kay.

"I don't lc0w much about it," said Nevile

vaguely. "I ways v0ndered how Audrey

managed to setch a octave, her hands are

so small."

He was l%g at them as she laid down

her dessert ,fe and fork.

She flushehd a little sad said quickly:

"I've got very long little finger. I expect

that helps."

* ,..

, ---,eh thon "-qald Kay-"If

you're unselfish you have a short little

finger."

"Is that true?" asked Mary Aldin. "Then I must be unselfish. Look, my little fingers

are quite short."

"I think you are very unselfish," said Thomas Royde, eyeing her thoughtfully.

She went red and continued, quickly:

"Who's the most unselfish of us? Let's

compare little fingers. Mine are shorter than

yours, Kay. But Thomas, I think, beats me."

"I beat you both," said Nevile. "Look," he stretched out a hand.

"Only one hand, though," said Kay.

"Your left hand little finger is short but your right hand one is much longer. And your left

hand is what you are born with and the right

hand is what you make of your life. So that

means that you were born unselfish but have

become much more selfish as time goes on."

"Can you tell forumes, Kay?" asked Mary Aldin. She stretched out her hand, palm

upwards. "A fortune teller told me I should have two husbands and three children. I shall

have to hurry up!"

Kay said:

"Those little crosses aren't children,

they're journeys. That means you'll take three

ioumevs across water."

"That seems uilikely, too," said Mary Aldin.

Thomas Royde asked her:

"Have you traveled much?"

"No, hardly at all."

He heard an undercurrent of regret in her

voice.

"You would like to?"

"Above everything."

He thought in his slow

her life. Always in attendance on an old

woman. Calm, tactful, an excellent manager.

reflective way of

He asked curiously:

"Have you rived

long?"

"For nearly fifteen years. I came to be

with her after my father died. He had been a

helpless invalid for some years before his

death."

And then, answering the question she felt

to be in his mind:

"I'm thirty-six. That's what you wanted to know, wasn't it?"

"I did wonder," he admitted. "You might

be any age, you see.

"That's rather a two-edged remark!"

"I suppose it is. I didn't mean it that

way."

That .nmher thnllehtfifi ffaze of his did

with Lady Tressilian

not leave her face. She did not find it em-barrassing. It was too free from self-consciousness

for that a genuine thoughtful

interest. Seeing his eyes on her hair, she put

her hand to the one white lock.

"I've had that," she said, "since I was very young."

"I like it," said Thomas Royde simply. He went on looking at her. She said at

last, in a slightly amused tone of voice, "Well, what is the verdict?"

He reddened under his tan.

"Oh, I suppose it is rude of me to stare. I was wondering about you what you are re-ally

like."

"Please," she said hurriedly and rose from the table. She said as she went into the draw-ing room with her arm through Audrey's:

"Old Mr. Treves is coming to dinner to-morrow, too."

"Who's he?" asked Nevile.

"He brought an introduction from the

Rufus Lords. A delightful old gentleman.

He's staying at the Balmoral Court. He's got

a weak heart and looks very frail, but his

faculties are perfect and he has known a lot

of interesting people. He was a solicitor or a

barrister I forget which."

"Everybody down here is terribly old," said Kay discontentedly.

She was standing just under a tall lamp.

Thomas was looking that way, and he gave

her that same slow interested attention that

he gave to anything that was immediately

occupying his line of vision.

He was struck suddenly with her intense

and passionate beauty. A beauty of vivid

coloring, of abundant and triumphant vitality.

He looked across from her to Audrey,

pale and motblike in a silvery grey dress.

He smiled to himself and murmured:

"Rose Red and Snow White."

"What?" It was Mary Aldin at his elbow. He repeated the words. "Like the old fairy story, you know--"

Mary Aldin said:

"It's a very good description...."

V

Mr. Treves sipped his glass of port appreciatively. A very nice wine. And an excellently

cooked and served dinner. Clearly Lady

Tressilian had no difficulties with her servants.

The house was well managed, too, in spite

of the mistress of it being an invalid.

A pity, perhaps, that the ladies did not

leave the dining room when the port went

round. He preferred the old-fashioned routine

But these young people had their own

ways.

His eyes rested thoughtfully on that brilliant

and beautiful young woman who was

the wife of Nevile Strange.

It was Kay's night tonight. Her vivid

beauty glowed and shone in the candlelit

room. Beside her, Ted Latimer's sleek dark

head bent to hers. He was playing up to her.

She felt triumphant and sure of herself.

The mere sight of such radiant vitality

warmed Mr. Treves' old bones.

Youth there was really nothing like

youth!

No wonder the husband had lost his head

and left his first wife. Audrey was sitting

next to him. A charming creature and a lady

but then that was the kind of woman who

invariably did get left, in Mr. Treves' experience.

He glanced at her. Her head had been

down and she was staring at her plate. Something in the complete immobility of her

attitude struck Mr. Treves. He looked at

"Everybody down here is terribly old," said Kay discontentedly.

She was standing just under a tall lamp.

Thomas was looking that way, and he gave

her that same slow interested attention that

he gave to anything that was immediately

occupying his line of vision.

He was struck suddenly with her intense

and passionate beauty. A beauty of vivid

coloring, of abundant and triumphant vitality.

He looked across from her to Audrey,

pale and mothlike in a silvery grey dress.

He smiled to himself and murmured:

"Rose Red and Snow White."

"What?" It was Mary Aldin at his elbow. He repeated the words. "Like the old fairy story, you know "

Mary Aldin said:

"It's a very good description... ."

V

Mr. Treves sipped his glass of port appreciatively. A very nice wine. And an excellently

cooked and served dinner. Clearly Lady

Tressilian had no difficulties with her servants.

The house was well managed, too, in spite

of the mistress of it being an invalid.

A pity, perhaps, that the ladies did not

leave the dining room when the port went

round. He preferred the old-fashioned routine

But these young people had their own

ways.

His eyes rested thoughtfully on that brilliant

and beautiful young woman who was

the wife of Nevile Strange.

It was Kay's night tonight. Her vivid

beauty glowed and shone in the candle[it

room. Beside her, Ted Latimer's sleek dark

head bent to hers. He was playing up to her.

She felt triumphant and sure of herself.

The mere sight of such radiant vitality

warmed Mr. Treves' old bones.

Youth there was really nothing like

youth!

No wonder the husband had lost his 'head

and left his first wife. Audrey was sitting

next to him. A charming creature and a lady

but then that was the kind of woman who

invariably did get left, in Mr. Treves' experience.

He glanced at her. Her head had been

down and she was staring at her plate. Something in the complete immobility of her

attitude struck Mr. Treves. He looked at

her more keenly. He wondered what she was

thinking about. Charming the way the hair

sprang up from that small shell-like ear ....

With a little start, Mr. Treves came to

himself as he realized that a move was being

made. He got hurriedly to his feet.

In the drawing room, Kay Strange went

straight to the gramophone and put on a

record of dance music.

Mary Aldin said apologetically to Mr.

Treves:

"I'm sure you hate jazz."

"Not at all," said Mr. Treves untmly but politely.

"Later, perhaps, we might have some

bridge?" she suggested. "But it is no good starting a rubber now, as I know Lady Tressilian is looking forward to having a chat

with you."

"That will be delightful. Lady Tressilian

never joins you down here?"

"No, she used to come down in an invalid

chair. That is why we had a lift put in. But

nowadays she prefers her own room. There

she can talk to whomsoever she likes, summoning them by a kind of Royal Command."

"Very aptly put, Miss Aldin. I am always

sensible of the royal touch in Lady Tressilian's manner."

In the middle of the room, Kay was mov

ing in a slow dance step.

She said:

"Just take that table out of the way,

Nevile."

Her voice was autocratic, assured. Her eyes

were shining, her lips parted.

Nevile obediently moved the table. Then

he took a step towards her, but she turned

deliberately towards Ted Latimer.

"Come on, Ted, let's dance."

Ted's arm went round her immediately.

They danced, swaying, bending, their steps

perfectly together. It was a lovely performance to watch.

Mr. Treves murmured:

"Er quite professional."

Mary Aldin winced slightly at the word

yet surely Mr. Treves had spoken in simple

admiration. She looked at his little wise nutcracker face. It bore, she thought, an absentminded

look as though he were following

some train of thought of his own.

Nevile stood hesitating a minute, then he

walked to where Audrey was standing by the

window.

"Dance, Audrey?"

His tone was formal, almost cold. Mere

politeness, you might have said, inspired his

request. Audrey Strange hesitated a minute

before nodding her head and taking a step

towards him.

Mary Aldin made some commonplace re-marks

to which Mr. Treves did not reply.

He had so far shown no signs of deafness

and his courtesy was punctilious she real-ized

that it was absorption that hdd him

aloof. She could not quite make out if he

was watching the dancers, or was staring

across the room at Thomas Royde standing

alone at the other end.

With a little start Mr. Treves said:

"Excuse me, my dear lady, you were

saying?"

"Nothing. Only that it was an unusually

frae September."

"Yes, indeed rain is badly needed lo-cally, so they tell me at my hotel."

"You are comfortable there, I hope?"

"Oh, yes, though I must say I was vexed

when I arrived to find "

Mr. Treves broke off.

Audrey had disengaged herself from

Nevile.. She said with an apologetic little

laugh:

"It's really too hot to dance."

She went towards the open window and

out onto the terrace.

"Oh! go after her, you fool," murmured Mary. She meant the remark to be under her

breath, but it was loud enough for Mr. Treves

to mm and stare at her in astonishment.

reddened and gave an embarrassed

She

laugh.

"i'm

speaking my thoughts aloud," she

said ruefully. "But really he does irritate me so. He's sos/ow."

"Mr. Strange?"

"Oh, no, not Nevile. Thomas Royde."

Thomas Royde was just preparing to

move forward, but by now Nevile, after a

moment's pause, had followed Audrey out of

the window.

For a moment Mr. Treves' eye, interest-edly

speculative, rested on the window, then

his attention returned to the dancers.

"A beautiful dancer, young Mr.

Latimer,

did you say the name was?"

"Yes, Edward Latimer."

"Ah, yes, Edward Latimer. An old friend,

I gather, of Mrs. Strange?"

"Yes."

"And what does this very

er decorative

young gentleman do for a living?"

"Well, really, I don't quite know."

"In-deed," said Mr. Treves, managing to

put a good deal of comprehension into one

harmless word.

Mary went on:

"He is staying at the Easterhead Bay

Hotel."

"A very pleasant situation," said Mr. Treves.

He added dreamily after a moment or two:

"Rather an interesting-shaped head a curi-ous angle from the crown to the neck

rendered less noticeable by the way he has

his hair cut, but distinctly unusual." After another pause, he went on, still more dream-ily:

"The last man I saw with a head like

that got ten years' penal servitude for a bru-tal assault on an elderly jeweler."

"Surely," exclaimed Mary, "you don't mean

"Not at all, not at all," said Mr. Treves.

"You mistake me entirely. I am suggesting

no disparagement of a guest of yours. I was

merely pointing out that a hardened and

brutal criminal can be in appearance a most

charming and personable young man. Odd,

but so it is."

He smiled gently at her. Mary said: "You

know, Mr. Treves, I think I am a little

frightened of you."

"But I am. You are such a very shrewd

observer."

"My eyes," said Mr. Treves complacently,

"are as good as ever they were." He paused and added: "Whether that is fortunat, e or unfortunate, I cannot at the moment decde."

"How could it be unfortunate?"

Mr. Treves shook his head doubtfully.

"One is sometimes placed in a position

of responsibility. The right course of action

is not always easy to determine."

Hurstall entered bearing the coffee tray.

After taking it to Mary and the old lawyer,

he went down the room to Thomas

Royde. Then, by Mary's directions, he put

the tray down on a low table and left the

room.

Kay called over Ted's shoulder, "We'll

finish out this tune."

Mary said: "I'll take Audrey's out to her." She went to the French windows, cup in

hand. Mr. Treves accompanied her. As she

paused on the threshold he looked out over

her shoulder.

Audrey was sitting on the corner of the

balustrade. In the bright moonlight, her

beauty came to life a beauty born of line

rather than color. The exquisite line from

mouth, and the really lovely bones of the

head and the small straight nose. That beauty

would be there when Audrey Strange was

an old woman it had nothing to do with

the covering flesh it was the bones them-selves that were beautiful. The sequined dress

she wore accentuated the effect of the moon-light. She sat very still and Nevile Strange

stood and looked at her.

Nevile took a step towards her:

"Audrey," he said, "you "

She shifted her position, then sprang

lightly to her feet and clapped a hand to her

ear:

"Oh! My earring I must have dropped

it."

"Where? Let me look "

They both bent down, awkward and em-barrassed

and collided in doing so. Audrey

sprang away, and Nevile exclaimed:

"Wait a sec my cuff button it's caught

in your hair. Stand still."

She stood quite still as he fumbled with

the button. "0o you're pulling it out by

the roots how clumsy you are, Nevile, do

be quick."

"Sorry I I seem to be all thumbs."

The moonlight was bright enough for the

two onlcke to .ee what Audrey could not

see, the trembling of Nevile's .hands as. he

strove to free the strand of fair silvery haxr.

But Audrey herself was trembling too as

though suddenly cold.

Mary Aldin jumped as a quiet voice said

behind her:

"Excuse me "

Thomas Royde passed between them and

out.

"Shall I do that, Strange?" he asked.

Nevile straightened up and he and Audrey

moved apart.

"It's all right. I've done it."

Nevile's face was rather white.

"You're cold," said Thomas to Audrey.

"Come in and have coffee."

She came back with him and Nevile turned

away staring out to sea.

"I was bringing it out to you," said .Mary.

"But perhaps you'd better come in."

"Yes," said Audrey. "I think I'd better come in."

They all went back into the drawing room.

Ted and Kay had stopped dancing.

The door opened and a tall gaunt woman

dressed in black came in. She said respect-fully:

"Her ladyship's compliments and she

would be glad to see Mr. Treves up in her

VI

Lady Tressilian received Mr. Treves with

evident pleasure.

He and she were soon deep in an agree.

able flood of reminiscences and a recalling of

mutual acquaintances.

At the end of half an hour Lady Tressilian

gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.

"Ah," she said, "I've enjoyed myself. There's nothing like exchanging gossip and

remembering old scandals."

"A little malice," agreed Mr. Treves,

"adds a certain savor to life."

"By the way," said Lady Tressilian, "what do you think of our example of the eternal

Mangle?"

Mr. Treves looked discreetly blank.

"Er---what triangle?"

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed it!

Nevile and his wives."

"Oh, that! The present Mrs. Strange is a

singularly attractive young woman."

"So is Audrey," said Lady Tressilian.

"She has charm yes."

Lady Tressilian exclaimed:

"Do you mean to tell me you can.under-stand a man leaving Audrey, who s a--a

person of rare quality for for a Kay?"

Mr. Treves replied calmly:

"Perfectly. It happens frequently."

"Disgusting. I should soon grow fired of

Kay if I were a man and wish I had never

made such a fool of myself!"

"That also happens frequently. These

sudden passionate infatuations," said Mr.

Treves, looking very passionless and precise

himself, "are seldom of long duration."

"And then what happens?" demanded

Lady Tressilian.

"Usually," said Mr. Treves, "the er parties adjust themselves. Quite often there

is a second divorce. The man then marries a

third party someone of a sympathetic

nature."

"Nonsense! Nevile isn't a Mormon what-ever some of your clients may be!"

"The remarriage of the original parties

occasionally takes place."

Lady Tressilian shook her head.

"That, no/Audrey has too much pride."

"I am sure of it. Do not shake your head

in that aggravating fashion!"

"It has been my experience," said Mr. Treves, "that women possess little or no

pride where love affairs are concerned. Pride

is a quality often on their lips, but not appar-ent in their actions."

"You don't understand Audrey. She was

violently in love with Nevile. Too much so,

perhaps. After he left her for this girl (though I don't blame him entirely the girl pur-sued

him everywhere and you know what

men are!) she never wanted to see him again." Mr. Treves coughed gently.

"And yet," he said, "she is here!"

"Oh, well," said Lady Tressilian, annoyed.

"I don't profess to understand these modem ideas. I imagine that Audrey is here just to

show that she doesn't care, and that it doesn't matter!"

"Very likely," Mr. Treves stroked his jaw. "She can put it to herself that way,

certainly."

"You mean," said Lady Tressilian, "that you think she is still hankering after Nevile

and that oh, no.t I won't believe such a

thing!"

"It could be" said Mr. Treves.

"I won't have it," said Lady Tressilian. "I won't have it in my house."

"You are already disturbed, are you not?" asked Mr. Treves shrewdly. "There is tension. I have felt it in the atmosphere."

"So you feel it too?" said Lady Tressilian sharply.

"Yes, I am puzzled, I must confess. The

true feelings of the parties remain obscure,

but in my opinion, there is gunpowder about.

The explosion may come any minute."

"Stop talking like Guy Fawkes and tell me

what to do," said Lady Tressilian.

Mr. Treves held up his hands.

"Really, I am at a loss to know what to

suggest.-There is, I feel sure, a focal point.

If we could isolate that but there is so much

that remains obscure."

"I have no intention of asking Audrey to

leave," said Lady Tressilian. "As far as my observation goes, she has behaved perfectly

in a very difficult situation. She has been

courteous but aloof. I consider her conduct

irreproachable."

"Oh, quite," said Mr. Treves. "Quite. But it's having a most marked effect on young

Nevile Strange all the same."

"Nevile," said Lady Tressilian, "is not behaving well. I shall speak to him about it.

But I couldn't mm him out of the house for

a moment. Matthew regarded him as practically

his adopted son."

"I know."

Lady Tressilian sighed. She said in a lowered

voice:

"You know that Matthew was drowned

here?"

"Yes."

"So many people have been sm'prised at

my remaining here. Stupid of them. I have

always felt Matthew near to me here. The

whole house is full of him. I should feel

lonely and strange anywhere else." She

paused and went on. "I hoped at first that it might not be very long before I joined him.

Especially when my health began to fail. But

it seems I am one of these creaking gates ..

these perpetual invalids who never die." She thumped her pillow angrily.

"It doesn't please me, I can tell you! I

always hoped that when my time came, it

would come quickly that I should meet

Death face to face not feel him creeping

along beside me, always at my shoulder

gradually forcing me to sink to one indignity

after another of illness. Increased helplessness increasing dependence on other

"But very devoted people, I am sure. You

have a faithfifi maid?"

"Barrett? The one who brought you up?

The comfort of my life! A grim old battleax,

absolutely devoted. She's been with me for

years."

"And you are lucky, I should say, in having Miss Aldin."

"You are right. I am lucky in having

Mary."

"She is a relation?"

"A distant cousin. One of those selfless

creatures whose lives are continually being

sacrificed to those of other people. She looked after her father a clever man but terribly

exacting. When he died I begged her to make

her home with me and I have blessed the

day she came to me. You've no idea what

horrors most companions are. Futile boring

creatures. Driving one mad with their inanity.

They are companions because they are

fit for nothing better. To have Mary, who is a well-read intelligent woman, is marvelous.

She. has really a first-class brain a man's

brain She has read widely and deeply and

there is nothing she cannot discuss. And she

is as clever domestically as she is intellectually. She runs the house perfectly and keeps

1

,,,...,,....4-1 11'

"It's a long time from that ..only half past ten," said Nevile. "They don't lock you out, I hope?"

"Oh, no. In fact I doubt if the door is

locked at all at night. It is shut at nine

o'clock but one has only to turn the handle

and walk in. People seem very haphazard

down here, but I suppose they are justified

in trusting to the honesty of the local people."

"Certainly no one locks their door in the

day time here," said Mary. "Ours stands wide open all day long but we do lock it

up at night."

"What's the Balmoral Court like?" asked Ted Latimer. "It looks a queer High Victo-rian atrocity of a building."

"It lives up to its name," said Mr. Treves.

"And has good solid Victorian comfort. Good beds, good cooking roomy Victorian ward-robes.

Immense baths with mahogany

surrounds."

"Weren't you saying that you were an-noyed about something at first?" asked Mary.

"Ah, yes. I had carefully reserved by letter two rooms on the ground floor. I have a

weak heart, you know, and stairs are forbid-den me. When I arrived I was vexed to fred

the rooms were not available. Instead I was

allotted two rooms (very pleasant rooms I

11/I

must admit) on the top floor. I protested,

but it seems that an old resident who had

been going to Scotland this month, was ill

and had been unable to vacate the rooms."

"Mrs. Lucan, I expect," said Mary.

"I believe that is the name. Under the

circumstances, I had to make the best of

things. Fortunately there is a good automatic

lift so that I have really suffered no incon-venience.''

Kay said:

"Ted, why don't you come and stay at the

Balmoral Court? You'd be much more acces-sible.''

"Oh, I don't think it looks my kind of

place."

"Quite right, Mr. Latimer," said Mr.

Treves. "It would not be at all in your line of country."

For some reason or other Ted Latimer

flushed.

"I don't know what you mean by that," he said.

Mary Aldin, sensing constraint, hurriedly

made a remark about a case in the paper.

"I see they've detained a man in the

Kentish Town trunk case "she said.

"It's the second man they've detained,"

said Nevile. "I hope they've got the right one this time."

"They may not be able to hold him even

if he is," said Mr. Treves.

"Insufficient evidence?" asked Royde.

"Yes."

"Still," said Kay, "I suppose they always get the evidence in the end."

"Not always, Mrs. Strange. You'd be

surprised if you knew how many of the peo-ple

who have committed crimes are walking

about the country free and unmolested."

"Because they've never been found out,

you mean ?"

"Not that only. There is a man" he men-tioned a celebrated case of two years back

"the police know who committed those

child murders know it without a shadow of

doubt but they are powerless. The man has

been given an alibi by two people and though

that alibi is false there is no proving it to be

so. Therefore the murderer goes free."

"How dreadful," said Mary.

Thomas Royde knocked out his pipe and

said in his quiet reflective voice, "That con-fa'ms what I have always thought that there

are times when one is justified in taking the

law into one's own hands."

"Wht dn vnu mean. Mr. Rovde?"

Thomas began to reffil his pipe. He looked

thoughtfully down at his hands as he spoke

in jerky disconnected sentences.

"Suppose you knew--of a dirty piece of

work knew that the man who did it isn't

accountable to existing laws that he's im-mune

from punishment. Then I hold that

one is justified in executing sentence oneself." Mr. Treves said warmly:

"A most pernicious doctrine, Mr. Royde!

Such an action would be quite unjustifiable!"

"Don't see it. I'm assuming, you know,

that the facts are proved--it's just that the

/aw is powerless!"

"Private action is still not to be excused." Thomas smiled--a very gentle smile.

"I don't agree," he said. "If a man ought to have his neck wrung I wouldn't mind

taking the responsibility of wringing it for

him!"

"And in turn would render yourself liable

to the law's penalties!"

Still smiling, Thomas said: "I'd have to be careful, of course .... In fact one would

have to go in for a certain amount of low

cunning "

Audrey said in her clear voice:

"You'd be found out, Thomas."

"Matter of fact," said Thomas, "I don't think I should."

"I knew a case once," began Mr. Treves and stopped. He Sfid apologetically: "Criminology is rather a hobby of mine, you know."

"Please go on," said Kay.

"I have had a fairly wide experience of

criminal cases," Sfid Mr. Treves. "Only a few of them have held any real interest. Most

murderers have ben lamentably uninteresting

and very short,sighted. However! I could

tell you of one interesting example."

"Oh, do," said Kay. "I like murders." Mr. Treves Sloke slowly, apparently

choosing his worqs with great deliberation

and care.

"The case concerned a child. I will not

mention that chiltt's age or sex. The facts

were as follows: Two children were playing

with bows and alrows. One child sent an

arrow through the other child in a vital spot

and death resultett. There was an inquest,

the surviving child was completely distraught

and the accident Was commiserated and sympathy expressed ft)r the unhappy author of the deed."

He paused.

"Was that all?"

"That was all.

asked Ted Latimer.

A reerettable accident.

But there is, you see, another side to the

story. A farmer, some time previously, hap-pened to have passed up a certain path in a

lously, "that it was not an accident that it was intentional?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Treves. "I have never known. But it was stated at the in-quest

that the children were unused to bows

and arrows and in consequence shot wildly

and ignorantly."

"And that was not so?"

"That, in the case of one of the children, was certainly not so!"

"What did the farmer do?" said Audrey breathlessly.

"He did nothing. Whether he acted rightly

or not, I have never been sure. It was the

future of a child that was at stake. A child,

he felt, ought to be given the benefit of a

doubt."

Audrey said:

"But you yourself have no doubt about

what really happened?"

Mr. Treves said gravely:

wood nearby. There, in a little clearing, he

had noticed a child practicing with a bow

and arrow."

He paused to let his meaning sink in.

"You mean," said Mary Aldin incredu

"Personally, I am of the opinion that it

was a particularly ingenious murder a mur-der

committed by a child and planned down

to every detail beforehand."

Ted Latimer asked:

"Was there a reason?"

"Oh, yes, there was a motive. Childish

teasings, unkind words, enough to foment

hatred. Children hate easily "

Mary exclaimed:

"But the deliberation of it."

Mr. Treves nodded.

"Yes, the deliberation of it was bad. A

child, keeping that murderous intention in

its heart, quietly practicing day after day

and then the final piece of acting the awk-ward shooting the catastrophe, the pretense

of grief and despair. It was all incredible so

incredible that probably it would not have

been believed in court."

"What happened to to the child?" asked Kay curiously.

"Its name was changed, I believe," said Mr. Treves. "After the publicity of the in-quest that was deemed advisable. That child

is a grown up person today somewhere in

the world. The question is, has it still got a

murderer's heart?"

"It is a long time ago, but I would recognize my little murderer anywhere."

"Surely not," objected Royde.

"Oh, yes. There was a certain physical

pec.uliarity Well, I will not dwell on the

sublect. It is not a very pleasant one. I must

really be on my way home."

He rose.

Mary said, "You will have a drink f'trst?" The drinks were on a table at the other

end of the room. Thomas Royde, who was

near them, stepped forward and took the

stopper out of the whisky decanter.

"A whisky and soda, Mr. Treves? Latimer,

what about you?"

Nevile said to Audrey in a low voice:

"It's a lovely evening. Come out for a

little."

She had been standing by the window

looking out at the moonlit terrace. He stepped

past her and stood outside, waiting. She

mined back into the room, shaking her head

quickly.

"No, I'm tired. I... I think I'll go to bed." She crossed the room and went out. Kay

gave a wide yawn.

"I'm sleepy too. What about you Mary?"

"Yes, I think so. Good night, Mr. Treves.

"Good night, Miss Aldin. Good night,

Mrs. Strange."

"We'll be over for lunch tomorrow, Ted," said Kay. "We could bathe if it's still like

ths."

"Right. I'll be looking out for you. Good

night, Miss Aldin."

The two women left the room.

Ted Latimer said agreeably to Mr. Treves,

"I'm coming your way, sir. Down to the

ferry, so I pass the hotel."

"Thank you, Mr. Latimer. I shall be glad

of your escort."

Mr. Treves, although he had declared his

intention of departing, seemed in no hurry.

He sipped his drink with pleasant delibera-tion and devoted himself to the task of ex-tracting

information from Thomas Royde as

to the conditions of life in Malaya.

Royde was monosyllabic in his answers.

The everyday details of existence might have

been secrets of national importance from the

difficulty with which they were dragged from

him. He seemed to be lost in some abstrac-tion

of his own, out of which he roused

himself with difficulty to reply to his ques-tioner.

Ted Latimer fidgeted. He looked bored,

Suddenly interrupting, he exclaimed, "I

nearly forgot. I brought Kay over some gaaophone records she wanted. They're in. he

hall. I'll get them. Will you tell her about

them tomorrow, Royde?"

The other man nodded. Ted left the rooa.

"That young man has a restless nattare," murmured Mr. Treves.

Royde grunted without replyingl

"A friend, I think, of Mrs. Strange's?" pursued the old lawyer.

"Of Kay Strange's," said Thomas.

Mr. Treves smiled.

"Yes," he said. "I meant that. He w'ottld hardly be a friend of the first Mrs.

Strange."

,Royde said emphatically:

'No, he wouldn't."

Then, catching the other's quizzical eye,

he said, flushing a little, "What I -nean

iS-"

"Oh, I quite understood what you meant,

Mr. Roy&. You yourself are a friend of

Mrs. Audrey Strange, are you not?"

Thomas Royde slowly filled his pipe from

his tobacco pouch. His eyes bent to his task,

he said or rather mumbled:

"M. yes. More or less broueht uo to

"She must have been a very charming

young girl?"

Thomas Royde said something that

sounded like "Um-yum."

* ::"A little awkward having two Mrs.

Stranges in the house?"

"Oh, yes yes, rather."

"A difficult position for the original Mrs. Strange."

Thomas Royde's face flushed.

"Extremely difficult."

Mr. Treves leaned forward. His question

popped out sharply.

"Why did she come, Mr. Royde?"

"Well I suppose ..." the other's voice was indistinct, "she didn't like to refuse."

"To refuse whom?"

Royde shifted awkwardly.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I believe she

always comes this time of year beginning of

September."

"And Lady Tressilian asked Nevile Strange

and his new wife at the same time?" The old gentleman's voice held a nice note of political

incredulity.

"As to

himself."

"He

that, I believe Nevile asked

was anxious, then, for this re

Royde shifted uneasily. He replied, avoid Ing the other's 'eye:

"I suppose so."

"Curious," said Mr. Treves.

"Stupid sort of thing to do," said Thomas Royde, goaded into longer speech.

"Somewhat embarrassing, one would have

thought," said Mr. Treves.

"Oh, well people do do that sort of thing

nowadays," said Thomas Royde vaguely.

"I wonder," said Mr. Treves, "if it had been anybody else's idea?"

Royde stared.

"rhose else's could it have been?"

Mr. Treves sighed.

"There are so many kind friends about in

the world always anxious to arrange other

people's lives for them--to suggest courses

of action that are not in harmony "He

broke off as Nevile Strange strolled back

throhgh the French window. At the same

moment Ted Latimer entered by the door

from the hall.

"Hullo, Ted, what have you got there?" asked Nevile.

"Gramophone records for Kay. She asked

me to bring them over."

"Oh, did she? She didn't tell me." There was just a moment of constraint between the

two, then Nvile strolled over to the drink

tray and hellaed himself to a whisky and

soda. His fate looked excited and unhappy

and he was 13eeathing deeply.

Someone in Mr. Treves' hearing had

referred to qevile as "that lucky beggar

Strange--got everything in the world anyone

could wish fqr." Yet he did not look, at this moment, at ll a happy man.

Thomas loyde' with Nevile's reentry,

seemed to feel that his duties as host were

over. He left the room without attempting to say good fright and his walk was slightly more hurriel than usual. It was almost an

escape.

"A delightful evening," said Mr. Treves politely as he set down his glass. "Most ah instructive.,,

"Instructive?,, Nevile raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Information re the Malay States," suggested Ted, smiling broadly. "Hard work

dragging answers out of Taciturn Thomas."

"Extraordixaary fellow, Royde," said Nevile.

"I believe he's always been the same.

Just smokes that awful old pipe of his and

listens and sss Um and Ah occasionally and

looks wise lille an owl."

"Perhaps he thinks the more," said Mr.

Treves. "And now I really must take my

leave."

"Come and see Lady Tressilian again

soon," said Nevile as he accompanied the

two men to the hall. "You cheer her up

enormously. She has so few contacts now

with the outside world. She's wonderful, isn't

she?"

"Yes, indeed. A most stimulating conver-sationalist.''

Mr. Treves dressed himself carefully with

overcoat and muffler and after renewed good

nights, he and Ted Latimer set out together.

The Balmoral Court was actually only

about a hundred yards away, around one

curve of the road. It loomed up prim and

forbidding, the first outpost of the straggling country street.

The ferry, for which Ted Latimer was

bound, was two or three hundred yards fur-ther

down, at a point where the river was at

its narrowest.

Mr. Treves stopped at the door of the

Balmoral Court and held out his hand.

"Good night, Mr. Latimer. You are stay-ing down here much longer?"

Ted smiled with a flash of white teeth.

"That depends, Mr. Treves. I haven't had

time to be bored yet."

"No no, so I should imagine. I suppose

like most young people nowadays, boredom

is what you dread most in the world, and

yet, I can assure you, there are worse things."

"Such as?"

Ted Latimer's voice was soft and pleasant,

but it held an undercurrent of something

else something not quite so easy to dePSme,

"Oh, I leave it to your imagination, Mr.

Latimer. I would not presume to give you

advice, you know. The advice of such elderly

fogeys as myself is invariably treated

with scorn. Rightly, perhaps, who knows?

But we old buffers like to think that experience has taught us something. We have noticed

a good deal, you know, in the course of

a lifetime."

A cloud had come over the face of the

moon. The street was very dark. Out of the

darkness, a man's figure came towards them

walking up the hill.

It was Thomas Royde.

"Just been down to the ferry for a bit of a walk," he said indistinctly because of the pipe clenched between his teeth.

"This your pub?" he asked Mr. Treves.

"Looks as though you were locked out."

"Oh, I don't think so," said Mr. Treves.

He turned the big brass door knob and

the door swung back.

"We'll see you safely in," said Royde. The three of them entered the hall. It

was dimly lit with only one electric light.

There was no one to be seen, and an odor of

bygone dinner, rather dusty velvet, and good

furniture polish met their nostrils.

Suddenly Mr. Treves gave an exclamation

of annoyance.

On the lift in front of them hung a notice:

LIFT OUT OF ORDER

"Dear me," said Mr. Treves. "How ex-tremely vexing. I shall have to walk up those

stairs."

"Too bad," said Royde. "Isn't there a service lift luggage all that?"

"I'm afraid not. This one is used for all

purposes. Well, I must take it slowly, that is

all. Good night to you both."

He started slowly up the wide staircase.

Royde and Latimer wished him good night,

then let themselves out into the dark street.

There was a moment's pause, then Royde

said abruptly:

"Well, good night."

"Good night. See you tomorrow."

Ted Latimer strode lightly down the hill

towards the ferry. Thomas Royde stood look-ing

after him for a moment, then he walked

slowly in the opposite direction towards Gull's Point.

The moon came out from behind the cloud

and Saltcreek was once more bathed in sil-very

radiance.

VII

"Just like summer," murmured Mary Aldin.

She and Audrey were sitting on the beach

just below the imposing edifice of the Eas-terhead Bay Hotel. Audrey wore a white

swim suit and looked like a delicate ivory

figurine. Mary had not bathed. A little way

along from them Kay lay on her face, expos-ing

her bronzed limbs and back to the sun.

"Ugh," she sat up. ?he water's horribly cold," she said accusingly.

"Oh, well, it/s September," said Mary.

"It's always cold in England," said Kay discontentedly. "How I wish we were in the south of France. That really is hot."

Ted Latimer from beyond her murmured:

"This sun here isn't a real sun."

"Aren't you going in at all, Mr. Latimer?" asked Mary.

Kay laughed.

"Ted never goes in the water. Just suns

himself like a lizard."

She stretched out a toe and prodded him.

He sprang up.

"Come and walk, Kay. I'm cold."

They went off together along the beach.

"Like a li7.ard? Rather an unfortunate

comparison," murmured Mary Aldin, look-ing after them.

"Is that what you think of him?" asked Audrey.

Mary Aldin frowned.

"Not quite. A li?ard suggests something

quite tame. I don't think he is tame."

"No," said Audrey thoughtfully. "I don't think so either."

"How well they look together," said Mary, watching the retreating pair. "They match

somehow, don't they?"

"I suppose they do."

"They like the same

things," went on

Mary. "And have the same opinions and

and use the same language. What a thousand

pities it is that "

She stopped.

Audrey said sharply:

"That what?"

Mary said slowly:

"I suppose I was going to say what a pity

it was that Nevile and she ever met."

Audrey sat up stiffly. What Mary called

to herself "Audrey's frozen look" had come over her face. Mary said quickly:

"I'm sorry, Audrey. I shouldn't have said

that."

"I'd so much rather not talk about it if

you don't mind."

"Of course, of course. It was very stupid

of me. I I hoped you'd got over it, I

suppose."

Audrey turned her head slowly. With a

calm expressionless face she said:

"I assure you there is nothing to get

over. I .I have no feeling of any kind in

the matter. I hope I/.hope with all my

heart, that Kay and Nevile will always be

very happy together."

"Well, that's very nice of you, Audrey."

"It isn't nice. It is just tree. But I do

think it is well unprofitable to keep on

going back over the past. 'It's a pity this

happened or that?' It's all over now. Why

rake it up? We've got to go on living our

lives in the present."

"I ,,,,c" .aid Mary simtalv. "that

people like Kay and Ted are exciting to me

from

because

well, they are so different

anything

or anyone that I have ever

across.

"Yes, I suppose they are."

come

"Even you," said Mary with sudden bit-terness,

"have lived and had experiences that

I shall probably never have. I know you've

been unhappy very unhappy but I can't

help feeling that even that is better than

well nothing. Emptiness!"

She said the last word with a fierce em-phasis.

Audrey's wide eyes looked a little startled.

"I never dreamed you ever felt like that."

"Didn't you?" Mary Aldin laughed apol-ogetically.

"Oh, just a momentary fit of dis-content,

my dear. I didn't really mean it."

"It can't be very gay for you," said Audrey Slowly. "Just living here with Camilla dear thing though she is. Reading to her, manag-ing

the servants, never going away."

"I'm well fed and housed," said Mary.

"Thousands of women aren't even that. And

really, Audrey, I am quite contented. I have"

a smile played for a moment round her

lips "my private distractions."

"Secret vices?" asked Audrey, smiling also.

"Oh, I plan things," said Mary vaguely.

"In my mind, you know. And I like experimenting sometimes upon people. Just seeing,

you know, if I can make them react to

what I say in the way I mean."

"You sound almost sadistic, Mary. How

little I really know you!"

"Oh, it's all quite harmless. Just a childish little amusement."

Audrey asked curiously:

"Have you experimented on me?"

"No. You're the only person I have always

found quite incalculable. I never know, you

see, what you are thinking."

"Perhaps," said Audrey gravely, "that is just as well."

She shivered and Mary exclaimed:

"You're cold."

"Yes. I think I will go and dress. After

all, it is September."

Mary Aldin remained alone stating at the

reflection on the water. The tide was going

out. She stretched herself out on the sand

dosing her eyes.

They had had a good lunch at the hotd. It

was still quite full although it was past the

height of the season. A queer mixed-looking

lot of people. Oh, well, it had been a day

out. Something to break the monotony of

to get away from that sense of tension, that

stnmg-up atmosphere that there had been

lately at Gull's Point. It hadn't been Audrey's fault, but Nevile

Her thoughts broke up abruptly as Ted

Latimer plumped himself down on the beach

beside her.

"What have you done with Kay?" Mary

asked.

Ted replied briefly:

"She's been claimed by her legal owner." Something in his tone made Mary Aldin

sit up. She glanced across the stretch of shining golden sands to where Nevile and Kay

were walking by the water's edge. Then she

glanced quickly at the man beside her.

She had thought of him as meretricious, as

queer, as dangerous, even. Now for the fa:st

time she got a glimpse .of someone young

and hurt. She thought:

"He was in love with Kay

with her and then Nevile

her away .... "

She said gently:

"I hope you are enjoying

here."

They were conventional

Aldin seldom used any

really in love

came and took

yourself down

words. Mary

words but con

her tone was an offer for the first time of

friendliness. Ted Latimer responded to it.

"As much, probably, as I should enjoy

myself anywhere!"

Mary said:

"i'm sorry."

"But you don't care a damn, really! I'm

an outsider and what does it matter what

outsiders feel and think?"

She turned her head to look at this bitter

and handsome young man.

He returned her look with one of deft ance.

She said slowly, as one who makes a di

Mary said with disamg sincerity:

"I wish you would tell me

reallv I wish

covery, "I see. You don't like us."

He laughed shortly. "Did you expect me

to?"

She said thoughtfully:

"I suppose, you know, that I did expect

just that One takes, of course, too much

for granted. One should be more humble.

Yes, it would not have occurred to me that

you would not like us. We have tried to

make you welcome as Kay's friend."

"Yes as Kay's friend!"

The interruption came with a quick

venom.

it just why you dislike us? What have we

done? What is wrong with us?"

Ted Latimer said, with a blistering emphasis

on the one word:

"Smug!"

"Smug?" Mary queried it without rancor, examining the charge with judicial appraisement.

"Yes," she admitted. "I see that we could seem like that."

"You are like that. You take all the good

things of life for granted. You're happy and

superior in your little roped-off enclosure shut off from the common herd. You look at

people like me as though I were one of the

animals outside!"

"I'm sorry," said Mary.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"No, not quite. We are stupid, perhaps,

and tmimaginative but not malicious. I

myself am conventional and superficially,

I daresay, what you call smug. But really,

you know, I'm quite human inside. I'm very

sorry, this minute, because you are unhappy

and I wish I could do something about it."

"Well if that's so it's nice of you."

There was a pause, then Mary said gently:

"Have you always been in love with Kay?"

"And shehe?''

SO

"I thougl.h,t , until Strange came along.

, ia genuy:

', A n4 volOU're still m love with her?"

,,:';-.oCld think that was obvious."

I sn

After a r/moment or two, Mary said quietly:

"I-IaAn't t you better go away from here?"

,,'"'"7i.hould I?"

,,,

;e you are omy letting yourself in

tecau=

'

anhappiness."

for

more u,

He

lookC/:ed at. her and

laughed.

,, ,re:a race creature," he said.

"But

You

.

,A-,. :know much about

the ammals

you

oou

t

. .

,.--n

Ibout outside your little

enclosure.

pro.wtm

,-.,. , .

Qmte a lot t

oz

mings

may happen m me near

future."

,,

ort of

things?" said Mary

sharply.

What

He lauge,a' ,,

"Wait aa

see.

VIII

When Aueclrey had dressed she

went along

th

'

h and

out along a jutting point

of

e

oea)..

Tho

'

. .:mng mas Royde who

was s t rocKs

lu'" * . .

-' --gere

smoking a ppe, exactly opposite

tlni us

.

.

.

to

Gull's

IJ

deg

m.

t

which

stood

white

and

serene

....

,

- ..aos te

side

of

the

river.

Thomas turned his head at Audrey's approach,

but he did not move. She sat down

beside him without speaking. They were

silent with the comfortable silence of two

people who know each other very well in&ed.

"How near it looks," said Audrey at last, breaking the silence.

Thomas looked across at Gull's Point.

"Yes, we could swim home."

"Not at this tide. There was a housemaid

Camilla had once. She was an enthusiastic

bather, used to swim across and back whenever

the ride was right. It has to be low

or high but when it's running out it sweeps

you fight down to the mouth of the river.

It did that to her one day only luckily she

her head and

ashore all

kept

right

caine

on

Easter Point only very exhausted."

"It doesn't say anything about its being

dangerous here."

"It isn't this side. The current is the other side. It's deep there under the cliffs. There

was a would-be suicide last year threw himself

off Stark Head but he got caught by a

tree halfway down the cliff and the coast

guards got to him all fight."

"Poor devil," said Thomas. "I bet he didn't thank them. Must be sickenine to

have made up your mind to get out of it all

and then be saved. Makes a fellow feel a

fool."

"Perhaps he's glad now," suggested Audrey dreamily.

"I wonder."

Thomas puffed away at his pipe. By turn-Lng

his head very slightly he could look at

Audrey. He noted her grave absorbed face

as she stared across the water. The long

brown lashes that rested on the pure line of

the cheek, the small shell-like ear

That reminded him of something.

"Oh, by the way, I've got your earring

the one you lost last night."

His fingers ddved into his pocket. Audrey

stretched out a hand.

"Oh, good, where did you find it? On the

terrace?"

"No. It

have lost it

was near the stairs. You must

as you came down to dinner. I

noticed you hadn't got it at dinner."

"I'm glad to have it back."

She took it. Thomas reflected that it was

rather a large barbaric earring for so small

an ear. The ones she had on today were

large, too.

He remarked:

"You wear your earrings even when you

bathe. Aren't you afraid of losing them?"

"Oh, these are very cheap things. I hate

being without earrings because of this."

She touched her left ear. Thomas remem-bered.

"Oh, yes, that time old Bouncer bit you?" Audrey nodded.

They were silent, reliving a childish mem-ory.

Audrey Standish (as she then was), a

long spindle-legged child, putting her face

down on old Bouncer who had had a sore

paw. A nasty bite, he had given her. She had

had to have a stitch put in it. Not that there

was much to show now just the tiniest little

SCar.

"My dear girl," he said. "You can hardly see the mark. Why do you mind?"

Audrey paused before answering with evi-dent

sincerity, "It's because because I just

can't bear a blemish."

Thomas nodded. It

knowledge of Audrey

perfection. She was in

finished an article.

He said suddenly:

fitted in with his

of her instinct for

herself so perfectly

"You're far more beautiful than Kay." She turned qtticklY=.

"Oh, no, Thomas. Kay Kay is really

lovely."

"On the outside. Not underneath."

"Are you referring," said Audrey with faint amusement, "to my beautiful soul?"

Thomas knocked out the ashes of his pipe.

"No," he said. "I think I mean your bones."

Audrey laughed.

Thomas packed a new pipeful of tobacco.

They were silent for quite five minutes, but

Thomas glanced at Audrey more than once

though he did it so unobtrusively that she

was unaware of it.

He said at last quietly, "What's wrong,

Audrey?"

"Wrong? What do you mean by wrong?"

"Wrong with you. There's something."

"No, there's nothing. Nothing at all."

"But there is."

She shook her head.

"Won't you tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"I suppose I'm being a chump

but I've

got to say it "He paused. "Audrey can't you forget about it? Can't you let it all go?"

She dug her small hands convulsively into

tho rnclt

to

"You don't understand you can't begin

understand."

"But,Audrey, my dear, I do. That's just

it. I know."

She turned a small doubtful face to him.

"I know just exactly what you've been

through. And and what it must have meant

to you.

She was very white now, white to the lips.

"I see," she said. "I didn't think anyone knew."

"Well, I do. I I'm not going to talk about it. But what I want to impress upon you is

that it's all over it's past and done with." She said in a low voice:

"Some things don't pass."

"Look here, Audrey, it's no good brood-ing and remembering. Granted you've been

through hell. It does no good to go over

and over a thing in your mind. Look forward

not back. You're quite young. You've got

your life to live and most of that life is

in front of you. Think of tomorrow, not of

yesterday."

She looked at 'him with a steady, wide-eyed

gaze that was singularly unrevealing of

her real thoughts.

"And supposing," she said, "that I can't do that."

"But you must."

Audrey said gently:

"I thought you didn't understand. I'm---I'm not quite normal about some 'things, I

suppose."

He broke in roughly, "Rubbish. You--" He stopped.

"I what?"

"I was thinking of you as you were when

you were a girl before you married Nevile.

Why did you marry Nevile?"

Audrey smiled.

"Because I fell in love with him."

"Yes, yes, I know that. But why did you

fall in love with him? What attracted you to

him so much?"

She crinkled her eyes as though trying to

see through the eyes of a girl now dead.

"I think," she said, "it was because he was so 'positive.' He was so much the op-posite of what I was, myself. I always felt

shadowy not quite real. Nevile was very

real. And so happy and sure of himself and

so everything that I was not." She added

with a smile: "And very good looking." Thomas Royde said bitterly:

"Yes, the ideal Englishman good at

slaorts, modest, good looking alwnv. the.

ttle pukka sahib getting everything he

wanted all along the line."

Audrey sat very upright and stared at him.

"You hate him," she said slowly. "You hate him very much, don't you?"

He avoided her eyes, turning away to cup

a match in his hands as he relit the pipe that

had gone out.

"Wouldn't be surprising if I did, would

it?" he said indistinctly. "He's got every-thing that I haven't. He can play games, and

swim and dance, and talk. And I'm a tongue-fled oaf with a crippled arm. He's always

been brilliant and successful and I've always

been a dull dog. And he married the only

girl I ever cared for."

She made a faint sound. He said savagely:

"You've always known that, haven't you?

You knew I cared about you ever since you

were fifteen. You know that I still care

She stopped him.

"No. Not now."

"What do you mean

not now?"

Audrey got up. She said in a quiet reflec-tive

voice:

"Because now I am different."

"Different in what way?"

l-le rt un too and stood facin her.

Audrey said in a quick, rathaer breathless

voice:

"If you don't know, I can't taell.you....

I'm not always sure myself. I only know '

She broke off and mining ab'uptly away,

she walked quickly back over te rocks towards

the hotel.

Turning a corner of the cliff, she came

across Nevile. He was lying full .length peering into a rock pool. He lool<ed up and

grinned.

"Hullo, Audrey."

"Hullo, Nevile."

"I'm watching a crab. Awfully active little beggar. Look, here he is."

She kndt down and stared Where he

pointed.

"See him?"

"Yes."

"Have a cigarette?"

She accepted one and he lighted it for her.

After a moment or two, during which she

did not look at him, he said nervously:

"I say, Audrey?"

"Yes."

"It's all right, isn't it? I mean

US."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

between

xao'ro frlenci. nnd all that."

l

"oh, es--yes, of course."

"I--I do want us to be frienls."

He looked at her anxiously. She gave him

a nervous'smile.

He said conversationally:

"It's been a jolly day, hasn't it? Weather good and all that?"

"Oh, yesmyes."

"Quite hot really for September."

"Very."

There was a pause.

"Audrey "

She got up.

"Your wife wants you, sh.e's having to

you."

"XXZho.. oh, Kay."

"I said your wife."

He scrambled to .his feet and stod looking

at her.

He said in a very low voice:

"You're my wife, Audrey-....."

She turned away. Nevile rajah down on to

the beach and across the sand to join Kay.

IX

On their arrival back at Gull's I Point, Hurstall came out into the hall and spoqoket0 Mary.

"Would you go up at once to her lady-ship, Miss? She is feeling very upset and

wanted to see you as soon as you got in."

Mary hurried up the stairs. She found

Lady Tressilian looking white and shaken.

"Dear Mary, I am so glad you have come.

I am feeling most distressed. Poor Mr. Treves

is dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes, isn't it terrible? So sudden. Appar-ently he didn't even get undressed last night.

He must have collapsed as soon as he got

home."

"Oh, dear, I am sorry."

"One knows, of course, that he was deli-cate. A weak heart. I hope nothing happened

while he was here to overstrain it? There was

nothing indigestible for dinner?"

"I don't think so no, I am sure there

wasn't. He seemed quite well and in good

spirits."

"I am really very distressed. I wish, Mary, that you would go to the Balmoral Court and

make a few inquiries of Mrs./Rogers. Ask

her if there is anything we can do? And then

the funeral. For Matthew's sake I would like

to do anything we could. These things are so

awkward at a hotel."

Mrv .roke firmlv.

"Dear Camilla, you really must not worry.

This has been a shock to you."

"Indeed it has."

"I will go to the Balmoral Court at once

and then come back and tell you all about

things."

"Thank you, Mary dear, you are always

so practical and understanding."

"Please try and rest now. A shock of this

kind is so bad for you."

Mary Aldin left the room and came down-stairs.

Entering the drawing room she ex-claimed:

"Old Mr. Treves is dead. He died last

night after returning home."

"Poor old boy," exclaimed Nevile. "What was it?"

"Heart apparently. He collapsed as soon

as he got in."

Thomas Royde said thoughtfully:

"I wonder if the stairs did him in."

"Stairs?" Mary looked at him inquiringly.

"Yes. When Latimer and I left him, he

was just starting up. We told him to take it

slow."

Mary exclaimed:

"But how very foolish of him not to take

the lift."

"The lift was out of order."

"Oh, I see. How very unfortunate. Poor old man." She added: "I am going round there now.

Camilla wants to know if there is anything

we can do."

Thomas said: "I'll come with you."

They walked together down the road and

round the corner to the Balmoral Court. Mary

remarked:

"I wonder if he has any relatives who

ought to be notified."

"He didn't mention anyone."

"No, and people usually do. They say 'my

niece,' or 'my cousin.'"

"Was he married?"

"I believe not."

They entered the open door of the Balmoral

Court.

Mrs. Rogers, the proprietress, was talking

to a tall middle-aged man, who raised a

friendly hand in greeting to Mary.

"Good afternoon, Miss Aldin."

"Good afternoon, Dr. Lazenby. This is

Mr. Royde. We came round with a message

from Lady Tressilian to know if there is

anything we can do."

"That's very kind of you, Miss Aldin," said the hotel proprietress. "Come into my rnn'm nn't VI"ll}'

They all went into the small comfortable

sitting room and Dr. Lazenby said:

"Mr. Treves was dining at your place last

night, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"How did he seem? Did he show any

signs of distress?"

"No, he seemed very well and cheerful." The doctor nodded.

"Yes, that's the worst of these heart cases. The end is nearly always sudden. I had a

look at his prescriptions upstairs and it seems quite clear that he was in a very precarious

state of health. I shall commtmicate with his

London doctor, of course."

"He was very careful of himself always," said Mrs. Rogers. "And I'm sure he had

every care here we could give him."

"I'm sure of that, Mrs. Rogers," said the doctor tactfully. "It was just some tiny addi-tional strain, no doubt."

"Such as walking upstairs," suggested Mary.

"Yes, that might do it. In fact almost

certainly would that is, if he ever walked

up those three flights but surely he never

did do anything of that kind?"

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Roeers. "He always

used the lift. Always. He was most particularo"

"I mean," said Mary, "that with the lift being out of order last night "

fi/irs. Rogers was staring at her in surprise.

"But the lift wasn't out of order at all

yesterday, Miss Aldin."

Thomas Royde coughed.

"Excuse me," he said. "I came home with Mr. Treves last night. There was a placard

on the lift saying 'Out of Order.'"

Nlrs. Rogers stared.

"Well, that's an odd thing. I'd have declared there was nothing wrong with the lift

in fact I'm sure there wasn't. I'd have

heard about it if there was. We haven't had

anything go wrong with the lift (touching

wood) since oh, not for a good eighteen

months. Very reliable it is."

"Perhaps," suggested the doctor, "some porter or hall boy put that notice up when

he was off duty?"

"It's an automatic lift, Doctor, it doesn't need anyone to work it."

"Ah, yes, so it is. I was forgetting."

"I'll have a word with Joe," said Mrs. Rogers. She bustled out of the room calling,

"Joe--Joe."

Dr. Lazenbv looked cnrinn.lv at Thnrnae

er

"Excuse me, you're quite sure, Mr.

"Royde," put in Mary.

"Quite sure," said Thomas.

Mrs. Rogers came back with the porter.

Joe was emphatic that nothing whatever had

been wrong with the lift on the preceding

night. There was such a placard as Thomas

had described but it was tucked away un-der

the desk and hadn't been used for over a

year.

They all looked at each other and agreed

it was a most mysterious thing. The doctor

suggested some practical joke on the part of

one of the hotel visitors, and perforce they

left it at that.

In reply to Mary's inquiries, Dr. Lazenby

explained that Mr. Treves' chauffeur had

given him the address of Mr. Treves' soli-citors, and he was communicating with them

and that he would come round and see Lady

Tressilian and tell her what was going to be

done about the funeral.

Then the busy cheerful doctor hurried off

and Mary and Thomas walked slowly back

to Gull's Point.

Mary said:

"You're quite sure you saw that notice,

Thomas?"

"Both Latimer and I saw it."

"What an extraordinary thing!" said Mary.

X

It was the twelfth of September.

"Only two more days," said Mary Aldin. Then she bit her lip and flushed.

Thomas Royde looked at her thoughtfully.

"Is that how you feel about it?"

"I don't know what's the matter with

me," said Mary. "Never in all my life have I been so anxious for a visit to come to an end.

And usually we enjoy having Nevile so much.

And Audrey too."

Thomas nodded.

"But this time," went on Mary, "one feels as though one were sitting on dynamite. At

any minute the whole thing may explode.

That's why I said to myself first thing this

morning: 'Only two days more.' Audrey goes

on Wednesday and Nevile and Kay on

Thursday."

"And I go on Friday," said Thomas.

"Oh, I'm not counting you. You've been a

tower of strength. I don't know what I should

have done without you."

"Thhrnan hnffer?"

"More than that. You've been so calm and

so so kind. That sounds rather ridiculous

but it really does express what I mean."

Thomas looked pleased though slightly

embarrassed.

"I don't know why we've all been so het

up," said Mary reflectively. "After all, if there was an an outburst it would be awk-ward

and embarrassing, but nothing more."

"But there's been more to your feeling

than that."

"Oh, yes, there has. A de pounds ite feeling of apprehension. Even the servants feel it.

The kitchenmaid burst into tears and gave

notice this morning for no reason at all.

The cook's jumpy Hurstall is all on edge

even Barrett who is usually as calm as a a

battleship has shown signs of nerves. And

all because Nevile had this ridiculous idea of

wanting his former and his present wife to

make friends and so soothe his own

conscience."

"In which ingenious idea he has singularly failed," remarked Thomas.

"Yes. Kay is is getting quite beside her-self. And really, Thomas, I can't help sym-pathizing

with her." She paused. "Did you

notice the way Nevile looked after Audrey

as she went up the stairs last night? He still

cares about her, Thomas. The whole ttng

has been the most tragic mistake."

Thomas started filling his pipe.

"He should have thought of that before," he said in a hard voice.

"Oh, I know. That's what one says. Buit

doesn't alter the fact that the whole thing is a tragedy. I can't help feeling sorry for Nevile."

"People like Nevile--" began Thomas and then stopped.

"Yes?"

"People like Nevile think that they can

always have everything their own way and

have everything they want, too. I don't suppose Nevile has ever had a setback over

anything in his life till he came up against

this business of Audrey. Well, he's got it

now. He can't have Audrey. She's out of his

reach. No good his making a song and dance

about it. He's just got to lump it."

"I suppose you're quite right. But you do

sound hard. Audrey was so much in love

with Nevile when she married him and they

always got on together so well."

"Well, she's out of love with him now."

"I wonder," murmured Mary under 2her

breath.

Thomas was going on:

"And I'll tell you somethine else. Neile

had better look out for Kay. She's a danger-ous kind of young woman really danger-ous.

If she got her temper up she'd stop at

nothing."

"Oh, dear," Mary sighed and, returning to her original remark, said hopefully: "Well, it's only two days more."

Things had been very difficult for the last

four or five days. The death of Mr. Treves

had given Lady Tressilian a shock which had

told adversely on her health. The funeral

had taken place in London for which Mary

was thankful, since it enabled the old lady to

take her mind off the sad event more quickly

than she might have been able to do other-wise. The domestic side of the household

had been nervy and difficult and Mary really

felt tired and dispirited this morning.

"It's partly the weather," she said aloud.

"It's unnatural."

It had indeed been an unusually hot and

fine spell for September. On several days the

thermometer had registered 70 in the shade.

Nevile strolled out of the house and joined

them as she spoke.

"Blaming the weather?" he asked with a glance up at the sky. "It is rather incredible. Hotter than ever today. And no wind. Makes

one feel jumpy somehow. However I think

we'll get rain before very long. Today is just

a bit too tropical to last."

Thomas Royde had moved very gently and

aimlessly away and now disappeared round

the corner of the house.

"Departure of gloomy Thomas," said

Nevile. "Nobody could say he shows any

enjoyment of my company."

"He's rather a dear," said Mary.

"I disagree. Narrow-minded prejudiced

sort of chap."

"He always hoped to marry Audrey; I

think. And then you came along and cut him

OUt.

"It would have taken him about seven

years to make up his mind to ask her to

marry him. Did he expect the poor girl to

wait about while he made up his mind?"

"Perhaps," said Mary deliberately, "it will all come fight now."

Nevile looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"True love rewarded?

wet fish? She's a lot too

I don't see Audrey

Audrey marry that

good for that. No,

marrying gloomy

Thomas."

"I believe she is really very fond of him,

Nevile."

, .......

are! Can't you let Audrey enjoy her freedom

for a bit?"

"If she does enjoy it, certainly."

Nevile said quickly:

"You think she's not happy?"

-"I really haven't the least idea."

"No more have I," said Nevile slowly.

"One never does know what Audrey is feeling." He paused and then added, "But Audrey

is one hundred per cent thoroughbred.

She's white all through."

Then he said, more to himself than to

Mary, "6od, what a damned fool I've been!" Mary went into the house a little worried.

For the third time she repeated to herself the

comforting words, "Only two days more." Nevile wandered restlessly about the garden

and terraces.

Right at the end of the garden he found

Audrey sitting on the low wall looking down

at the water below. It was high tide and the

river was full.

She got up at once and came towards him.

"I was just coming back to the house. It

must be nearly teatime."

She spoke quickly and nervously without

looking at him.

Only when they reached the terrace again

dil he say:

"Can I talk to you, Audrey?"

She said at once, her fingers gripping the

eclge of the balustrade:

"I think you'd better not."

"That means you know what I want to

saY.

She did not answer.

"What about it, Audrey? Can't we go back

to where we were? Forget everything that

has happened?"

"Including Kay?"

"Kay," said Nevile, "will be sensible."

"What do you mean by sensible?"

"Simply this. I shall go to her and tell her tlae truth. Fling myself on her generosity.

Tell her, what is true, that you are the only

woman I ever loved."

"You loved Kay when you married her."

"My marriage to Kay was the biggest mis-take I ever made. I ..... "

He stopped. Kay had come out of the

drawing room window. She walked towards

tlaem, and before the fury in her eyes even

lqevile shrank a little!

"Sorry to interrupt this touching scene," said Kay. "But I think it's about time I

did."

&udrey got up and moved away.

"I'll leave you alone," she said.

Her face and voice were colorless.

"That's right," said Kay. "You've done all the mischief you wanted to do, haven't

you? I'll deal with you later. Just now I'd

rather have it out with Nevile."

"Look here, Kay, Audrey has absolutely

nothing to do with this. It's not her fault.

Blame me if you like--"

"And I do like," said Kay. Her eyes blazed at Nevile. "What sort of a man do you think you are?"

"A pretty poor sort of man," said Nevile bitterly.

"You leave your wife, come bullheaded

after me, get your wife to give you a divorce.

Crazy about me one minute, tired of me

the next! Now I suppose you want to go

back to that whey-faced, mewling, double-crossing little cat "

"Stop that, Kay!"

"Well, what do you want?"

Nevile was very white. He said:

"I'm every kind of a worm you like to

call me. But it's no good, Kay. I can't go on.

I think really I must have loved Audrey

all the time. My love for you was was a

kind nf mndne. Rnt it'e nn nn,4 m,, ,4.--,,.

you and I don't bdong. I shouldn't be able

to make you happy in the long run. Believe

me, Kay, it's better to cut our losses. Let's

try and part friends. Be generous."

Kay said in a deceptively quiet voice:

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

Nevile did not look at her. His chin took

on a dogged angle.

"We can get a divorce. You can divorce

me for desertion."

"Not for some time. You'll have to wait

for it."

"I'll wait," said Nevile.

"And then, after three years or whatever it is, you'll ask dear sweet Audrey to marry all

over again?"

"If she'll have me."

"She'll have you all right!" said Kay viciously.

"And where do I come in?"

"You'll be free to find a better man than

I am. Naturally I shall see you're well provided for "

"Cut out the bribes!" Her voice rose, as she lost control of herself:

"Listen to me, Nevile. You can't do this

thing to me! I'll not divorce you. I married you because I loved you. I know when you started turning against me. It was after I let you know I followed you to Estoril. You

wanted to think it was all Fate. It upset your

vanity to think it was me.t Well, I'm not

ashamed of what I did. You fell in love with

me and married me and I'm not going to let

you go back to that sly little cat who's got

her hooks into you again. She meant this

to happen but she's not going to bring it

off! I'll kill you fa:st. Do you hear? I'll kill you. I'll kill her too. I'll see you both dead. I'll "

Nevile took a step forward and caught her

by the arm.

"Shut up, Kay. For goodness' sake. You

can't make this kind of scene here."

"Can't I? You'll see. I'll "

Hurstall stepped out on the terrace. His

face was quite impassive.

"Tea is served in the drawing room," he announced.

Kay and Nevile walked slowly towards the

drawing room window.

Hurstall stood aside to let them pass in.

Up in the sky the clouds were gathering.

XI

The rain started falling at a quarter to seven.

Nevile watched it from the window of his

bedroom. He had had no further conwersation

with Kay. They had avoided each ,other

after tea.

Dinner that evening was a stilted diffficult

meal. Nevile was sunk in abstraction; ]Kay's

face had an unusual amount of mak,:eup;

Audrey sat like a frozen ghost. Mary Mdin

did her best to keep some kind of co:,nversation going and was slightly annoyed with

Thomas Royde for not playing up to her

better.

Hurstall was nervous and his hands trembled

as he handed the vegetables.

As the meal drew to a close, Nevilee said

with elaborate casualness, "Think I shall go over to Easterhead after dinner and look up

Latimer. We might have a game of billiarrds."

"Take the latchkey," said Mary. "Ira case you're back late."

"Thanks, I will."

They went into the drawing room where

coffee was served.

The turning on of the wireless and the

news was a welcome diversion.

Kay, who had been yawning ostentatiously

ever since dinner,' said she would go up to

bed. She had got a headache.

"Have you got any aspirin?" asked Mary.

"Yes, thank you."

She left the room.

Nevile tuned the wireless on to a program

with music. He sat silent on the sofa for

some time. He did not look once at Audrey,

but sat huddled up looking like an unhappy

little boy. Against her will, Mary felt quite

sorry for him.

"Well," he said at last, rousing himself.

"Better be off if I'm going."

"Are you taking your car or going by

ferry?"

"Oh, ferry. No sense in going a rotmd of

fifteen miles. I shall enjoy a bit of a walk."

"It's raining, you know."

"I know. I've got a Burberry."

He went towards the door.

"Good night."

In the hall, Hurstall came to him.

"If you please, sir, will you go up to Lady Tressilian? She wants to see you specially."

Nevile glanced at the clock. It was already

ten o'clock.

He shrugged his shoulders and went up-stairs

and along the corridor to Lady

Tressilian's room and tapped on the door.

While he waited for her to say come in, he

heard the voices of the others in the hall

down below. Everybody was going to bed

early tonight, it seemed.

"Come in," said Lady Tressilian's clear voice.

Nevile went in, shutting the door behind

him.

Lady Tressilian was all ready for the night.

All the lights were extinguished except one

reading lamp by her bed. She had been read-ing, but she now laid down the book. She

looked at Nevile over the top of her specta-cles. It was, somehow, a formidable glance.

"I want to speak to you, Nevile," she said.

In spite of himself, Nevile smiled fainfiy.

"Yes, Headmaster," he said.

Lady Tressilian did not smile.

"There are certain things, Nevile, that I

will not permit in my house. I have no wish

to listen to anybody's private conversations

but if you and your wife insist on shouting

at each other exactly under my bedroom

windows, I can hardly fail to hear what you

say. I gather that you were outlining a plan

whereby Kay was to divorce you and in due

course you would remarry Audrey. That,

Nevile, is a thing you simply cannot do and

I will not hear of it for a moment."

Nevile seemed to be making an effort to

control his temper.

shortly. "As for the rest of what you say, surely that is my business!"

"No, it is not. You have' used my house in order to get into touch with Audrey or else

Audrey has used it--"

"She has done nothing of the sort. She "

Lady Tressilian stopped him with upraised

hand.

"Anyway you can't do this thing, Nevile.

Kay is your wife. She has certain rights of

which you cannot deprive her. In this mat-ter,

I am entirely on Kay's side. You have

made your bed and must lie upon it. Your

duty now is to Kay and I am telling you so

plainly"

Nevile took a step forward. His voice rose:

"This is nothing whatever to do with

you .... "

"nat is more," Lady Tressilian swept on regardless of his protest, "Audrey leaves this house tomorrow "

"You can't do that! I won't stand for it "

"Don't

shout at me, Nevile."

"I tell you I won't have it "

Somewhere along the passage a door

shut..

XII

Alice Bentham, the gooseberry-eyed housemaid,

c::ame to Mrs. Spicer the cook, in some

perturb,afion.

"Oh,o Mrs. Spicer, I don't rightly know

what I ,ought to do."

"Wh:,at's the matter, Alice?"

"It's Miss Barrett. I took her in her cup of tea ove:;r an hour ago. Fast asleep she was

and never woke up, but I didn't like to do

much. ,And then, five minutes ago, I went in

'again because she hadn't come down and her

ladyshilp's tea all ready and waiting for her to take in. So I went in again and she's sleeping

ever so-I can't stir her."

,,HaVre you shaken her?"

"Yes, Mrs. Spicer. I shook her hard but

she just goes on lying there and she's ever

such a lhorrid color."

"Goclness, she's not dead, is she?"

"Oh no, Mrs. Spicer, because I can hear

her bre:athing, but it's funny breathing. I

think she's ill or something."

"WEB, I'll go up and see myself. You take

in her ladyship's tea. Better make a fresh

pot. She'll be wondering what's happened." Alice obedienfiy did as she was told whilst

aa r .qoicer-went ut to the second floor.

Taking the tray along the corridor, Alice

knocked at Lady Tressilian's door. After

knocking twice and getting no answer she

went in. A moment later, there was a crash

of broken crockery and a series of wild

screams and Alice came rushing out of the

room and down the stairs to where Hurstall

was crossing the hall to the dining room.

"Oh, Mr. Hurstall there've been burglars

and her ladyship's dead killed with

a great hole in her head and blood everywhere

"

A Fine Italian Hand...

I

Superintendent Battle had enjoyed his holi-day. There were still three days of it to run

and he was a little disappointed when the

weather changed and the rain fell. Still, what

else could you expect in England? And he'd

been extremely lucky up to now.

He was breakfasting with Inspector James

Leach, his nephew, when the telephone rang.

"I'll come fight along, sir." Jim put the receiver back.

"Serious?" asked Superintendent Battle. He noted the expression on his nephew's

face.

"We've got a murder. Lady Tressilian.

An old lady, very well known down here, an

invalid. Has that house at Saltcreek that

hangs fight over the cliff."

Battle nodded.

"I'm going along to see the old man" (thus disrestx:ctfixllv did Leach seak of his Chief

Constable). "He's a friend of hers. We're

going to the place together."

As he went to the door he said pleadingly:

"You'll give me a hand, won't you, Uncle,

over this? First case of this kind I've had."

"As long as I'm here, I will. Case of rob-bery and housebreaking, is it?"

"I don't know yet."

II

Half an hour later, Major Robert Mitchell,

the Chief Constable, was speaking gravely to

uncle and nephew.

"It's early to say as yet," he said, "but one thing seems clear. This wasn't an outside

job. Nothing taken, no signs of breaking in.

All the windows and doors found shut this

morning."

He looked directly at Battle.

"If I were to ask Scotland Yard, do you

think they'd put you on the job? You're

on the spot, you see. And then there's your

relationship with Leach here. That is, if

you're willing. It means cutting the end of

your holiday."

"That's all right," said Battle. "As for the

nthor .ir vnll'll have to nut it up to Sir

Edgar" (Sir Edgar Cotton was Assistant

Commissioner) "but I believe he's a friend of yours?"

Mitchell nodded.

"Yes, I think I can manage Edgar all right. That's settled, then! I'll get through right

away."

He spoke into the telephone: "Get me the

Yard."

"You think it's going to be an important

case, sir?" asked Battle.

Mitchell said gravely:

"It's going to be a case where we don't

want the possibility of making a mistake.

We want to be absolutely sure of our man

or woman, of course."

Battle nodded. He understood quite well

that there was something behind the words.

"Thinks he knows who did it," he said to himself. "And doesn't relish the prospect. Somebody well known and popular or I'll eat

my boots!"

III

Battle and Leach stood in the doorway of the

well-furnished, handsome bedroom. On the

carefully testing for fingerprints the handle

of a golf club a heavy niblick. The head

of the club was bloodstained and had one or

two white hairs sticking to it.

By the bed Dr. Lazenby, who was police

surgeon for the district, was bending over

the body of Lady Tressilian.

He straightened up with a sigh.

"Perfectly straightforward. She was hit

from in front with terrific force. First blow

smashed in the bone and killed her, but the

murderer struck again to make sure. I won't

give you the fancy terms just the plain horse

sense of it."

"How long has she been dead?" asked

Leach.

"I'd put it between ten o'clock and

midnight."

"You can't go nearer than that?"

"I'd rather not. All sons of factors to take into account. We don't hang people on r/gor

mon/s nowadays. Not earlier than ten, not later than midnight."

"And she was hit with this niblick?"

The doctor glanced over at it.

"Presumably. Luck, though, that the

murderer left it behind. I couldn't have de-duced a niblick from the wound. As it hap

none

tho .hm edge nf the club didn't touch

the head it was the angled back of the club

that must have hit her."

"Wouldn't that have been rather difficult

to do?" asked Leach.

"If it had been done on purpose, yes," agreed the doctor. "I can only suppose, that by a rather odd chance, it just happened that

way."

Leach was raising his hands, instinctively

trying to reconstruct the blow.

"Awkward," he commented.

"Yes," said the doctor thoughtfully. "The whole thing was awkward. She was struck,

you see, on the right temple but whoever

did it must have stood on the right hand

side of the bed facing the head of the bed

there's no room on the left, the angle from

the wall is too small."

Leach pricked up his ears.

"Left handed?" he queried.

"You won't get me to commit myself on

that point," said Lazenby. "Far too many snags. I'll say, if you like, that the easiest

explanation is that the murderer was left

handed but there are other ways of account-ing

for it. Suppose, for instance, the old lady

had turned her head slightly to the left just

moved the bed out, stood on the left of it

and afterwards moved the bed back."

"Not very likely that last."

"Perhaps not, but it might have happened.

I've had some experience in these things,

and I can tell you, my boy, deducing that

a murderous blow was struck left handed is

full of pitfalls!"

Detective Sergeant Jones from the floor,

remarked, "This golf club is the ordinary

right-handed kind."

Leach nodded. "Still, it mayn't have be-longed to the man who used it. It was a

man, I suppose, Doctor?"

"Not necessarily. If the weapon was that

heavy niblick a woman could have landed a

terrible swipe with it."

Superintendent Battle said in his quiet

voice:

"But you couldn't swear that that was the

weapon, could you, Doctor?"

Lazenby gave him a quick interested

glance.

"No. I can only swear that it might have

been the weapon, and that presumably it was

the weapon. I'll analyze the blood on it,

make sure that it's the same blood group

also the hairs."

"Yes," said Battle approvingly. "It's always as well to be thorough."

Lazenby asked curiously:

"Got any doubts about that golf club yourself, Superintendent?"

Battle shook his head.

"Oh, no, no. I'm a simple man. Like to

believe the thing I see with my eyes. She

was hit with something heavy that's heavy.

It has blood and hair on it, therefore presumably her blood and hair. Ergo that was

the weapon used."

Leach asked:

"Was she awake or asleep when she was

hit?"

"In my opinion, awake. There's astonishment on her face. I'd say this is just a

private personal opinion that she didn't

expect what was going to happen. There's no

sign of any attempt to fight and no horror

or fear. I'd say off hand that either she had

just woken up from sleep and was hazy and

didn't take things in or else she recognized

her assailant as someone who could not possibly wish to harm her."

"The bedside lamp was on and nothing

else," said Leach thoughtfully.

"Yes, that cuts either way. She may have

turned it' on when she was suddenly woken

up by someone entering her room. Or it may

have been on already."

Detective Sergeant Jones rose to his feet.

He was smiling appreciatively.

"Lovely set of prints on that club," he said. "Clear as anything!"

Leach gave a deep sigh.

"That ought to simplify things."

"Obliging chap," said Dr. Lazenby. "Left the weapon left his fingerprints on it won-der

he didn't leave his visiting card!"

"It might be," said Superintendent Battle,

"that he just lost his head. Some do."

The doctor nodded.

"True enough. Well, I must go and look

after my other patient."

"What patient?" Battle sounded suddenly interested.

"I was sent for by the butler before this

was discovered. Lady Tressilian's maid was

found in a coma this morning."

"What was wrong with her?"

"Heavily doped with one of the barbitu-rates. She's pretty bad, but she'll pull round."

"The maid?" said Battle. His rather ox-like eyes went heavily to the big bell pull,

the tassel of which rested on the pillow near

the dead woman's hand.

Lazenby nodded.

"Exactly. That's the fzrst thing Lady

Tressilian would have done if she'd cause

to fed alarm pull that bell and summon the

maid. Well, she could have pulled it till all

was blue. The maid wouldn't have heard."

"That was taken care of, was it?" said Battle. "You're sure of that? She wasn't in the habit of taking sleeping draughts?"

"I'm positive she wasn't. There's not a

sign of such a thing in her room. And I've

found out how it was given to her. Senna

pods. She drank off a brew of senna pods

every night. The stuff was in that."

Superintendent Battle scratched his chin.

"H'm," he said. "Someone knew all about this house. You know, Doctor, this is a very

odd sort of murder."

"Well," said Lazenby. "That's your busi-ness.''

"He's a good man, our doctor," said Leach when Lazenby had left the room.

The two men were alone now. The photo-graphs

had been taken, and measurements

recorded. The two police officers knew every

fact that was to be known about the room

where the crime had been committed.

Battle nodded in answer to his nephew's

remark. He seemed to be puzzling over

"Do you think anyone could have handled

that club. with gloves on, say. after those

fingerprints were made?"

Leach shook his head.

"I don't and no more do ydegu. You couldn't

grasp that club not use it, I mean, without

smearing those prints. They weren't smeared.

They were clear as clear. You saw for your-self."

Battle agreed.

"And now we ask very nicely and politely

if everyone will allow us to take their fin-gerprints, no compulsion, of course. And

everybody will say yes. and then one of two

things will happen. Either none of these fin-gerprints will agree, or else "

"Or else we'll have got our man?"

"I suppose so. Or our woman, perhaps." Leach shook his head.

"No, not a woman. Those prints on the

clubs were a man's. Too big for a woman's,

Besides this isn't a woman's crime."

"No," agreed Battle. "Quite a man's crime. Brutal, masculine, rather athletic and

slightly stupid. Know anybody in the house

like that?"

"I don't know anyone in the house yet.

They're all together in the dininrcm"

"We'll go and have a look at them." He

glanced odegver his shoulder at the bed, shook

his head ,(,and remarked:

"I don''t like that bell pull."

"What; about it?"

"It doesn't fit."

He adc5ted as he opened the door:

"Who ' wanted to kill her, I wonder? A lot

of cantanJkerdegus old ladies about just asking for a

on the skull. She doesn't lok that

tap , ,

sort. I she5:)ma think she was liked." He paused

a minute

"Well

money?"

Leach

and then asked:

off, wasn't she? Who gets her

answered the implication of the

words:

,,You,de hit it! That will be the answer.

It's one of the first things to f'md out."

As thffy went downstairs together, Battle

glanced t the list in his hand.

He read out:

"Miss Aldin, Mr. Royde, Mr. Strange,

Mrs. Stfange' Mrs. Audrey Strange. H'm,

seem a Ityt of the Strange family."

"Thos are his two wives, I understand."

Battle,eyebrows rose and he murmured:

,,

card, is he?"

Bluel

, - cAmilv were assembled round the clin

ing room table, where they had rade apre-tense

of eating.

Superintendent Battle glanced keer/7 at

the faces turned to him. Fie was s'zfing hem

up after his OWl pectfiiar methods. His view

of them might have surprised the had they

known it. It was a sternly biased view, No

matter what the law pretends as to regarding

people innocent until they are proed gfilty,

Superintendent Battle always regarded eery-one

connected with a murder case as potential

murderer.

He glanced from Mary Aldin sitting upright

and pale at the head of the table, to

Thomas Royde filling a pipe beside her, to

Audrey sitting with her chair pushed lack,

a coffee cup and saucer in her right had, a

cigarette in her left, to Nevile looking (azed

and bewildered, trying with a shaking aand

to light a cigarette, to Kay with ler elbOWS

on the table and the pallor of her face stXOWing through her makeup.

These .were Superintendent Battle's

thoughts:

Suppose that's Miss Aldin. Cool customer

competent woman, I should say.

Won't catch her off her guard esily. Man

next to her is a dark horse got a groggy arm hit nfa nnker face-.--,,,t on inferior ity complex as likely as not. That's one of

these wives, I suppose she's scared to

death yes, she's scared all right. Funny

about that coffee cup. That's Strange, I've

seen him before somewhere. He's got the

jitters all right nerves shot to pieces. Red

headed girl's a tartar devil of a temper.

Brains as well as temper, though.

Whilst he was thus sizing them up, Inspector

Leach was making a stiff little speech.

Mary Aldin mentioned everyone present by

nalTle.

She ended up:

"It has been a terrible shock to us, of

course, but we are anxious to help you in

any way we can."

"To begin with," said Leach, holding it up, "does anybody know anything about this

golf club?"

With a LITTLE cry, Kay said, "How horrible. Is that what "and stopped.

Nevile Strange got up and came round the

table.

"Looks like one of mine. Can I just see?"

"It's quite all fight now," said Inspector Leach. "You can handle it."

That little significant "now" did not seem to produce any reaction in the onlookers.

Nevile examined the club.

!'l thinkc it's one of the niblicks out of my

bag," he said. "I can tell you for sure in a minute or: two. If you will just come with

me." The:,y followed him to a big cupboard under the stairs. He flung open the door of

it and to Battle's confused eyes it seemed

literally c:rowded with tennis rackets. At

the same time, he remembered where he had

seen Neville Strange. He said quickly:

"I've se:en you play at Wimbledon, sir." Nevile lhalf mined his head.

"Oh, yes, have you?"

He was; throwing aside some of the rackets.

There were two golf bags in the cupboard

leaning up against fishing tackle.

"Only rny wife and I play golf," explained Nevile. "/And that's a man's club. Yes, that's right it' mine."

He had taken out his bag which contained

at least fo,urteen clubs.

Inspecttor Leach thought to himself:

"These. athletic chaps certainly take themselves seriously. Wouldn't like to be his

caddy."

Nevile was saying:

"It's one of Walter Hudson's niblicks from St. Esbert's."

"Thank you, Mr. Strange. That settles

one question."

Nevile said:

"What beats Me is thaC nothing was taken.

And the house doesn't seem to have been

broken into?" Sfis voice was bewildered

but it was also..righteneCl'

Battle said to himself:

thinging it out, all of

"They've

ben

them .... "

"The servants,,, said lqevile, "are so absolutely harmless ,,

"I shall tal to Mis Aldin about the

servants," saicl Tnsoect0r L-each smoothly. In the meane I wo0cler if you could give

me any idea Wiho Lady Tressilian's solicitors

are?"

"Askwith &k TrC/la'SY," replied Nevile promptly. "St,,. Loo."

"Thank yo%, Mr. strange. We shall have

to PSmd out

from em all about Lady

Tressilian's

PrtdegPerL,,Y'asged--' Nevile, "who in"Do you rrean'

hefits her mor

,,

.

,,.-., ri..ncY'.. er will, and all that."

w U," aia 4evae.

*oI t xxaaOW aDOU

"She had not we, muC/ of her own to leave

so far as I kow. I tell you about the

bulk of her pro..rty."

xes, xr... Strange?

,,. ....o

--my wife under the

will of the late Sir Matthew Tressilian. Lady

Tressilian only had a life interest in it."

"Indeed, is that so?" Inspector Leach looked at Nevile with the interested attention

of someone who spots a possibly valuable

addition to his pet collection. The look made

Nevile wince nervously. Inspector Leach

went on and his voice was impossibly genial,

"You've no idea of the amount, Mr.

Strange?"

"I couldn't tell you off hand. In the neigh-I

borhood of a hundred thousand pounds,

believe."

"In-deed. To each of you?"

"No, divided between us."

"I see. A very considerable sum."

Nevile smiled. He said quietly, "I've got

plenty to live on of my own, you know,

without hankering to step into dead people's

shoes."

Inspector Leach looked shocked at having

such ideas attributed to him.

They went back into the dining room and

Leach said his next little piece. This was on

the subject of fingerprints a matter of rou-fine elimination of those of the household

in the dead woman's bedroom.

Everyone expressed willingness almost

eaeerness t have their finernrint. taken

They were shepherded into the library for

that purpose where Detective Sergeant Jones

was waiting for them with his little roller.

Battle and Leach began on the servants.

Nothing very much was to be got from

them. Hurstall explained his system of lock-ing up the house and swore that he had

found it untouched in the morning.. There

were no signs of any entry by an intruder.

The front door, he explained, had been left

on the latch. That is to say it was not bolted, but could be opened from outside with a

key. It was left like that because Mr. Nevile

had gone over to Easterhead Bay and would

be back late.

"Do you know what time he came in?"

"Yes, sir, I think it was about half past

two. Someone came back with him, I think.

I heard voices and then a car drive away and

then I heard the door close and Mr. Nevile

come upstairs."

"What time did he leave here last night

for Easterhead Bay?"

"About twenty past ten. I heard the door

close."

Leach nodded. There did not seem much

more to be got from Hurstall at the moment.

He interviewed the others. They were all

no more so than was natural in the circum-stances.

Leach looked questioningly at his uncle as

the door closed behind the slightly hysterical

kitchenmaid who had tailed the procession.

Battle said: "Have the housemaid back

not the pop-eyed one--the tall thin bit of

vinegar. She knows something."

Emma Wales was clearly uneasy. It

alarmed her that this time it was the big

elderly square man who took upon himself

the task of questioning her.

"I'm just going to give you a bit of advice, Miss Wales," he said pleasantly. "It doesn't do, you know, to hold anything back from

the police. Makes them look at you unfavor-ably, if you understand what I mean "

Emma Wales protested indignantly but

uneasily:

"I'm sure I never "

"Now, now." Battle held up a large square hand. "You saw something or else you heard something, what was it?"

"I didn't exactly hear it I mean I couldn't help hearing it Mr.. Hurstall, he heard it

too. And I don't think, not for a moment

I don't, that t had anything to do with the

"Probably not, probably not. Just tell us

hat was."

"Witell, I was going up to bed. Just after

te.n. it was.-]and I d slipped along, first to put

/Vliss Aldm's hot water bottle m her bed.

-r

and

always has one,

Summer or winter she

so of course I had to pass right by her

ladyship's door."

',',Go on," said Battle.

.And I heard her and Mr. Nevile going

at t hammer and tongs. Voices right up.

Shouting, he was. Oh, it was a proper quarrel!''

"Remember exactly what was said?"

"Well, I wasn't really listening as you might say."

"No. But still you must have heard some

of the words." . ,

"Her ladyship was saying as she wouldn t

or other going on in her

have something

*

ouse and Mr. Nevile. was s.aymg; ,",,

dare to say anything against net.

you

worked up he was.

.

e with an expressionless lace, ux

Battl , --,-....A t o more out of

once more, tut nc .o,,y ,: n. *.

the end he disxmssect me woman.

her In

ach

He and Jim.-3-.o.? ,a,ach other. Le

"Jones ought to be able to tell us something about those prints by now."

Battle asked:

"Who's doing the rooms?"

"Williams. He's a good man. He won't

miss anything."

"You're keeping the occupants out of

them?"

"Yes. Until Williams has fmished."

The door opened at that minute and young

Williams put his head in.

"There's something I'd like you to see. In Mr. Nevile Strange's room."

They got up and followed him to the suite

on the west side of the house.

Williams pointed to a heap on the floor. A

dark blue coat, trousers and waistcoat.

Leach said sharply:

"Where did you f'md this?"

"Bundled down into the bottom of the

wardrobe. Just look at this, sir."

He picked up the coat and showed the

edges of the dark blue cuffs.

"See those dark stains? That's blood, sir, or I'm a Dutchman. And see here, it's spattered all up the sleeve."

"Hm," Battle avoided the other's eager eyes. "Looks bad for young Nevile, I must

say. Any other suit in the room?"

"Dark grey pin stripe hanging over a chair. Lot of water on the floor here by the wash

basin."

"Looking as though he washed the blood

off himself in the devil of a hurry? Yes. It's

near the open window, though, and the rain

has come in a good deal."

"Not enough to make those pools on the

floor, sir. They're not dried up yet."

Battle was silent. A picture was forming

itself before his eyes. A man with blood on

his hands and sleeves, flinging off his clothes, bundling the bloodstained garments into the

cupboard, sluicing water furiously over his

hands and bare arms.

He looked across at a door in the other

wall.

Williams answered the look.

"Mrs. Strange's room, sir. The door is

locked."

"Locked? On this side?"

"No. On the other."

"On her side, eh?"

Battle was reflective for a minute or two.

He said at last, "Let's see that old butler again."

Hurstall was nervous. Leach said crisply:

"Why didn't vnll tell us. Hurstall. that

you overheard a quarrel between Mr. Strange

and Lady Tressilian last night?"

The old man blinked.

"I really didn't think twice about it, sir.

I don't '.nnagine it.was what you'd call a

quarrel lust an armcable difference of opin-ion.''

Resisting the temptation to say, "Ami-cable difference of opinion my foot!" Leach

went on:

"What suit was Mr. Strange wearing last

night at dinner?"

Hurstall hesitated. Battle said quietly:

"Dark blue suit or grey pin stripe? I

daresay someone else can tell us if you don't

remember."

Hurstall broke his silence.

"I remember now, sir. It was his dark

blue. The family," he added, anxious not

to lose prestige, "have not been in the habit of changing into evening dress during the

summer months. They frequently go out af-ter

dinner--sometimes in the garden, some-times

down to the quay."

Battle nodded. Hurstall left the room. He

passed Jones in the doorway. Jones looked

excited.

He said:

q'here's onl

.. the bill. Of course .I v

;nly been :onk.e,a r.degUg..cdegmpar,,sdegn

as yet, but I'll bet thFY re the ngrtt ones.

w

yMr. N .

* '

Battle leant back iq-his chatr.

. . ,,xvr,u

,, '

., ;'that seems to setue

doesn't it? ',

IV

They were in the (5hief Constable's office

three men . .:.C/e worded faces.

Major htchl"'e*d with a sigh:

"Well, I suppose,,there's nothing to be

done but aarrest hi.

Leach Said auie:

C/T..d,

1. ,, ,,

"udeg'3 like lt, '

Mitchel lookedCrOSS at Superintendent

Baffle.

"Cheer --4/' he said kindly. "Your

. . .

. up, lau. ,,

t)est Ine.nqd isn't dd' *

Supertl?ntendent J.attle .s.ghed.

"I doll! .'-:. ,rle salcl.

i t like lt . * ,,

*

"I do", thinkmY of us like t,

.smd

* s;,,hon"ln.,t.. 'e ample evidence, I think,

"More than ample," said Battle.

"In fact if we don't apply for one, anybody might ask why the dickens not?"

Battle nodded an unhappy head.

"Let's go over it," said the Chief Constable.

"You've got motive Strange and his

wife come into a considerable sum of money

at the old lady's death. He's the last person

known to have seen her alive he was heard

quarreling with her. The suit he wore that

night had bloodstains on it and that blood

is the same group as that of the deceased

woman (that's only negative evidence, of

course); most damning of all, his fingerprints

were found upon the actual weapon and no one else' s."

"And yet, sir," said Battle, "you don't like it either."

"I'm damned if I do."

"What is it exactly you don't like about it, Sir?"

Major Mitchell rubbed his nose.

"Makes the fellow out a bit too much of

a fool, perhaps?" he suggested.

"And yet, sir, they do behave like fools

sometimes."

"Oh, I know I know. Where would we

be if they didn't?"

Battle said to Leach:

,,What don't you Ix-ilv'

L';h stirred unh. aPr. Strange. Seen him

"I've always likea 'for years. He's a nice

on and off dow.n.he, rsesportsman." ,, .

- d rte

eentleman an,, . Battle slowly, why a

,,

't see,

sma

't be a murderer

I don

ouldn

.

eood

tennis play. er s)fing against xt." He

o well. There's nut like is the niblick."

puzzled.

. eatively, the bell. The

"Yes, sir, or .aliot both."

bell or the nibli, cg] :sslow careful voice.

He went on m ru'tt actually happened?

"What do we to her room, have a

qD&d Mr. Strange ,er. and hit her over the

arrel, lose his t..eiOJlf so, and t was

a raon'

'

head with

. , did he happen to have

unpremeditated, lC/."t's not the sort of thing

a niblick with hira:,(you in the eveni.gs."

you carry.apo .een pracncmg swmgs-"He rrnght

something like tha

"He might.Da

saw him doing xt.

him with a niblic

weepreviously sands. As I look at it,

tobody says so. Nobody

te last time anybody saw

n his hand was about a

:n he was practicing sand

there was a quarrel and he lost his temper

and mind you, I've seen him on the courts,

and in one of these tournament matches these

tennis stars are all het up and a mass of

nerves and if their tempers fray easily it's

going to show. I've never seen Mr. Strange

raffled. I should say he'd got an excellent

control over his temper better than most

and yet we're suggesting that he goes berserk

and hits a frail old lady over the head."

"There's another alternative, Battle," said the Chief Constable.

"I know, sir. The theory that it was premeditated. He wanted the old lady's money.

That fits in with the bell which entailed the

doping of the maid but it doesn't fit in with

the niblick and the quarrel! If he'd made

up his mind to do her in, he'd be very careful

not to quarrel with her. He could dope

the maid creep into her room in the night

crack her over the head and stage a nice

little robbery, wiping the niblick and putting

it carefully back where it belonged! It's all

wrong, sir it's a mixture of cold premeditation and unpremeditated violence and the

two don't mix!"

"There's something in what you say, Bat-tie but what's the alternative?"

"It's the niblick that takes my fancw sir."

"Nobody could have hit her over the head

with that niblick without disturbing Nevile's

prints that's quite certain."

"In that case," said Superintendent Battle,

"she was hit over the head with something

else."

Major Mitchell drew a deep breath.

"That's rather a wild assumption, isn't it?"

"I think it's common sense, sir. Either

Strange hit her with that niblick or nobody

did. I plump for nobody. In that case that

niblick was put there deliberately and blood

and hair smeared on it. Dr. Lazenby doesn't

like the niblick much he had to accept it

because it was the obvious thing and because

he couldn't say definitely that it hadn't been

used."

Major Mitchell leaned back in his chair.

"Go on, Battle," he said. "I'm giving you a free hand. What's the next step?"

"Take away the niblick," said Battle,

"and what is left? First, motive. Had Nevile Strange really got a motive for doing away

with Lady Tressilian? He inherited money

a lot depends to my mind on whether he

needed that money. He says not. I'd suggest

we verify that. Find out the state of his

finances. If he's in a hole financially, and

very much strengthened. If, on the other

hand, he was speaking the truth and his

finances are in a good state, why, then "

"Well, what then?"

"Why, then we might have a look at the

motives of the other people in the house."

"You think, then, that Nevile Strange was

framed?"

Superintendent Battle screwed up his eyes.

"There's a phrase I read somewhere that

tickled my fancy. Something about a fine

Italian hand. That's what I seem to see in

this business. Ostensibly it's a blunt bru-tal

straightforward crime, but it seems to

me I catch glimpses of something else of a

fine Italian hand at work behind the

scenes "

There

was a long pause while the Chief Constable

looked at Battle.

"You

may be right," he said at last. "Dash it all, there's something funny about the busi-ness. What's your idea, now, of our plan of campaign?"

Battle

stroked his square jaw.

"Well,

sir," he said. "I'm always in favor of going about things in the obvious way. Everything's been set to make us suspicious of

Mr. Nevile Strange. Let's go on being

really to arrest him, but hint at it, question

him, put the wind up him and observe

everybody's reactions generally. Verify his

statements, go over his movements that night

with a toothcomb. In fact show our hand as

plainly as may be."

"Quite Machiavellian," said Major Mitch-ell with a twinkle. "Imitation of a heavy

handed

policeman by star actor Battle."

The Superintendent smiled.

"I always like doing what's expected of

me, sir. This time I mean to be a bit slow

about it take my time. I want to do some

nosing about. Being suspicious of Mr. Nevile

Strange is a very good excuse for nosing

about. I've an idea, you know, that some-thing

rather odd has been going on in that

house."

"Looking for the sex angle?"

"If you like to put it that way, sir."

"Handle it your own way, Battle. You and

Leach carry on between you."

"Thank you, sir." Battle stood up.

"Nothing suggestive from the solicitors?"

"No, I rang them up. I know Trelawny

fairly well. He's sending me a copy of Sir

Matthew's will and also of Lady Tressilian's.

She had about five hundred a year of her

own invested in gilt-edged securities. She

left a legacy to Barrett and a small one to

Hurstall, the rest to Mary Aldin."

"That's three we might keep an eye on,"

said Battle.

Mitchell looked amused.

"Suspicious fellow, aren't you?"

"No use letting oneself be hypnotized

by fifty thousand pounds," said Battle stol-idly.

"Many a murder has been done for less

than fifty pounds. It depends on how much

you want the money. Barrett got a legacy

and maybe she took the precaution to dope

herself so as to avert suspicion."

"She very nearly passed out. Lazenby

hasn't let us question her yet."

"Overdid it out of ignorance, perhaps.

Then Hurstall may have been in bad need of

cash for all we know. And Miss Aldin, if

she's no money of her own, might have fan-cied

a bit of life on a nice little income before

she's too old to enjoy it."

The Chief Constable looked doubtful.

"Well," he said, "it's up to you two. Get on with the job."

V

Back at Gull's Point the two police officers

received W'filiams' report.

Nothing' of a suspicious or suggestive na-ture

had been found in any of the bedrooms.

The servants were clamoring to be allowed

to get on with the housework. Should he

give them the word?

"Might as well, I suppose," said Battle.

"I'll just have a stroll myself first through the upper floors. Rooms that haven't been

done very often tell you something about

their occupants that's useful to know."

Jones put down a small cardboard box on

the table.

"From Mr. Nevile Strange's dark blue

coat," he announced. "The red hairs were on the cuff, blonde hairs on the inside of the

collar and the fight shoulder."

Battle took out the two long red hairs and

the half dozen blonde ones and looked at

them. He said, with a faint twinkle in his

eve:

"Convenient. One blonde, one redhead

and one brunette in this house. So we know

where we are at once. Red hair on the cuff,

blonde on the collar? Mr. Nevile Strange

arm round one wife and the other one's head

on his shoulder."

"The blood on the sleeve has gone for

analysis, sir. They'll ring us up as soon as

they get the result."

Leach nodded.

"What about the servants?"

"I followed your instructions, sir. None of them is under notice to leave, or seems likely

to have borne a grudge against the old lady.

She was strict, but well liked. In any case

the management of the servants lay with Miss

Aldin. She seems to have been popular with

them."

"Thought she was an efficient woman the

moment I laid eyes on her," said Battle. "If she's our murderess, she won't be easy to

hang."

Jones looked startled.

"But those prints on that niblick, sir,

were "

"I know I know," said Battle. "The sin-gularly obliging Mr. Strange's. There's a

general belief that athletes aren't over-burdened by brains (not at all true, by the

way) but I can't believe Nevile Strange is a

complete moron. What about those senna

pods of the maid's?"

servants' bathroom on the second floor. She

used to put 'em in to soak midday and they

stood there until the evening when she went

to bed."

"So that absolutely anybody could get at

them? Anybody inside the house, that is to

say.

Leach said with conviction:

"It's an inside job all right!"

"Yes, I think so. Not that this is one of

those closed-circle crimes. It isn't. Anyone

who had a key could have opened the front

door and walked in. Nevile Strange had that

key last night but it would probably be a

simple matter to have got one cut, or an old

hand could do it with a bit of wire. But

I don't see any outsider knowing about the

bell and that Barrett took senna at night!

That's local inside knowledge! Come along,

Jim, my boy. Let's go up and see this bath-room and all the rest of it."

They started on the top floor. Here was

a box room full of old broken furniture and

junk of all kinds.

"I haven't looked through this, sir," said Jones. "I didn't know "

"What you were looking for? Quite right.

C}nlxr xxraet c pounds time Fram the dust on the

floor nobody has been in here for at least six

months."

The servants' rooms were all on this floor,

also two unoccupied bedrooms with a bath-room,

and Battle looked into each room and

gave it a cursory glance noticing that Alice,

the popeyed housemaid, slept with her

window shut; that Emma, the thin one, had

a great many relations, photographs of whom

were crowded on her chest of drawers, and

that Hurstall had one or two pieces of good,

though cracked, Dresden and Crown Derby

porcelain.

The cook's room was severely neat and

the kitchenmaid's chaotically untidy. Battle

passed on into the bathroom which was the

room nearest to the head of the stairs.

Williams pointed out the long shelf over the

washbasin, on which stood tooth glasses and

brushes, various unguents and bottles of salts

and hair lotion. A packet of senna pod stood

open at one end.

"No prints on the glass or packet?"

"Only the maid's own. I got hers from her

room."

"He didn't need to handle the glass," said Leach. "He'd only have to drop the stuff

Battle went down the stairs followed by

servants' bathroom on the second floor. She

used to put 'em in to soak midday and they

stood there until the evening when she went

to bed."

"So that absolutely anybody could get at

them? Anybody inside the house, that is to

say."

Leach said with conviction:

"It's an inside job all right!"

"Yes, I think so. Not that this is one of

those closed-circle crimes. It isn't. Anyone

who had a key could have opened the front

door and walked in. Nevile Strange had that

key last night but it would probably be a

simple matter to have got one cut, or an old

hand could do it with a bit of wire. But

I don't see any outsider knowing about the

bell and that Barrett took senna at night!

That's local inside knowledge! Come along,

Jim, my boy. Let's go up and see this bathroom

and all the rest of it."

They started on the top floor. Here was

a box room full of old broken furniture and

junk of all kinds.

"I haven't looked through this, sir," said Jones. "I didn't know "

"What you were looking for? Quite right.

Only waste of time. From the dust on the

floor nobody has been h here for at least six

months."

The servants' rooms ere all on this floor,

also two unoccupied bdrooms wiff a bathroom,

and Baffle lookC/ into each room and

gave it a cursory glanct noticing that Alice,

the popeyed housemid, slept with her

window shut; that Em, the thin one, had

a great many rdafions, photographs of whom

were crowded on her ciest of drawers, and

that Hurstall had one 0r two pieces of good,

though cracked, Dresden and Crowa Derby

porcdain.

The cook's room was severely raeat and

the kitchenmaid's chaotically untidy-. Battle

passed on into the batlxoom which was the

room nearest to the head of the stairs.

Williams pointed out te 10ng shelf )ver the

washbasin, on which stood tooth glasses and

brushes, various unguents and bottles of salts

and hair lotion. A packet of senna pod stood

open at one end.

"No prints on the glass or packet?"

"Only the maid's owa. I got hers f'xom her room,"

"He didn't need to handle the glas," said Leach. "He'd only have to drop t.e stuff

Battle went down the stairs folio, wed hv

Leach. Halfway down this top flight was

a rather awkwardly placed window. A pole

with a hook on the end stood in a corner.

"You draw down the top sash with

that," explained Leach. "But there's a burglar screw. The window can be drawn down,

only so far. Too narrow for anyone to get in

that way."

"I wasn't thinking of anyone getting in," said Battle. His eyes were thoughtful.

He went into the fzrst bedroom on the

next floor which was Audrey Strange's. It

was neat and fresh, ivory brushes on the

dressing table no clothes lying about. Battle

looked into the wardrobe. Two plain

coats and skirts, a couple of evening dresses,

one or two summer frocks. The dresses were

cheap, the tailormades well cut and expensive

but not new.

Battle nodded. He stood at the writing

table a minute or two, fiddling with the pen

tray on the left of the blotter.

Williams said: "Nothing of any interest on the blotting paper or in the waste paper

basket."

"Your word's good enough," said Battle.

"Nothing to be seen here."

They went on to the other rooms.

Thomas Royde's was untidy, with clothes

lying about. Pipes and pipe ash on the tables

and beside the bed, where a copy of Kipling's

Kim lay half open.

"Used to native servants clearing up after him," said Battle. "Likes reading old favor-ites. Conservative type."

Mary Aldin's room was small but comfort-able.

Battle looked at the travel books on the

shelves and the old-fashioned dented silver

brushes. The furnishing and coloring in the

room were more modern than the rest of the

house.

"She's not so conservative," said Battle.

"No photographs either. Not one who lives

in the past."

There were three or four empty rooms, all

well kept and dusted ready for occupation,

and a couple of bathrooms. Then came Lady

Tressilian's big double room. After that,

reached Dy going down three little steps,

came the two rooms and bathroom occupied

by the Stranges.

Battle did not waste much time in Nevile's

room. He glanced.out of the open casement

window below .which the rocks fell sheer to

the sea. The wew was to the West, towards

Stark Head which rose wild '.and forbidding

out of the sea.

"Gets the afternoon sun," he murmured.

"But rather a grim .morni. g outlook. Nasty smell of seaweed at l.OW Ucle' too. And that

headland has got a grim loqk' Don't wonder

it attracts suicides?

He passed into the larger room, the door

of which had been unlocked.

Here everything was wild confusion.

Clothes lay about in hea, ps-fflmy under-wear,

stockings, jumpers tried on and dis-carded

a patterned Ser frock thrown

sprawling over the back of a chair. Battle

looked inside the wardro;be. It was full of

furs, evening dresses, shcorts, tennis frocks,

playsuits.

Battle shut the doors gain almost rever-ently.

"Expensive tastes," he remarked. "She

must cost her husband a lot of money."

Leach said darkly:

"Perhaps that's why---2,,

He left the sentence mished.

"Why he needed a ] hundred or rather

fifty thousand pounds? 5 Maybe. We'd better

see, I think, what he hats to say about it."

They went down to tthe library. Tilliams

was dispatched to tell ttt,ae servants they could get on with the housework. The family were

free to return to their rrooms if they wished.

also that Inspector Leach would like an in-terviewwith each of them separately starting

with Mr. Nevile Strange.

Whea Williams had gone out of the room.,

Battle md Leach established themselves be.

hind a massive Victorian table. A young

policeman with notebook sat in the corner

the room, his pencil poised.

Barde said:

"Y0a carry on for a start, Jim. Make it

impressive." As the other nodded his heacl, Battle robbed his chin and frowned.

"I wish I knew what keeps putting Hercule

Poirot into my head."

"You mean that old chap. the Belgian-.-comic little guy?"

"Comic my foot," said Superintendent

Battle. "About as dangerous as a black

marnba and a she-leopard that's what he is

when he starts making a mountebank of hi.

selflI wish he were here this sort of thirg

would be right up his street."

"In what way?"

"Psychology," said Battle. "Real psychology-not the haft-baked stuff people hand

out who know nothing about it." His memory dwelt resentfully on Miss Amphrey and

his daughter, Sylvia' "No..-the real genuine

go round. Keep a murderer talking--that's

one of his lines. Says everyone is bound to

speak what's true sooner or later because

in the end it's easier than telling lies. And

so they make some little slip they don't think

matters and that's when you get them."

"So you're going to give Nevile Strange

plenty of rope?"

Battle gave an absent-minded assent. Then

he added, in some annoyance and perplexity:

"But what's really worrying me is what

put Hercule Poirot into my head? Upstairs

that's where it was. Now what did I see that

reminded me of that little guy?"

The conversation was put to an end by the

arrival of Nevile Strange.

He looked pale and worried, but much

less nervous than he had done at the break-fast table. Battle eyed him keenly. Incredible

that a man who knew and he must know if

he were capable of any thought processes at

all that he had left his fingerprints on the

instrttment of the crime and who had since

had his fingerprints taken by the police

should show neither intense nervousness nor

an elaborate brazening of it out.

Nevile Strange looked quite natural

shocked, worried, grieved and just slightly

and healthily nervous.

Jim Leach was speaking in his pleasant

West country voice.

"We would like you to answer certain

questions, Mr. Strange. Both as to your

movements last night and in reference to

particular facts. At the same time I must

caution you that you are not bound to an-swer

these questions unless you like and that

if you prefer to do so you may have your

solicitor present."

He leaned back to observe the effect of

this.

Nevile Strange looked, quite plainly, be-wildered.

"He hasn't the least idea what we're get-ting at, or else he's a damned good actor,"

Leach thought to himself. Aloud he said, as

Nevile did not answer, "Well, Mr. Strange?" Nevile said:

"Of course, ask me anything you like."

"You realize," said Battle pleasantly, "that anything you say will be taken down in writ-ing and may subsequently be used in a court

of law in evidence."

A flash of temper showed on Strange's

face. He said sharply:

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, no, Mr. Strange. Warning you."

Nevile shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose all this is part of your routine. Go ahead."

"You are ready to make a statement?"

"If that's what you call it."

"Then will you tell us exactly what you

did last night. From dinner onwards, shall

we say?"

"Certainly. After dinner we went into the

drawing room. We had coffee. We listened

to the wireless the news and so on. Then

I decided to go across to Easterhead Bay

Hotel and look up a chap who is staying

there a friend of mine."

"That friend's name is?"

"Latimer. Edward Latimer."

"An intimate friend?"

"Oh, so, so. We've seen a good deal of

him since he's been down here. He's been

over to lunch and dinner and we've been

over there."

Battle said:

'Rather late, wasn't it, to go off to

Easterhead Bay?"

"Oh, it's a gay spot they keep it up till

all hours."

"But this is rather an early to bed house-hold, isn't it?"

"Yes, on the whole. However, I took the

latchkey with me. Nobody had to sit ut."

"Your arife didn't think of going with

you?"

There was a slight change, a stiffening in

Nevile's tone as he said:

"No, she had a. headache. She'd already

gone up to bed."

"Please go on, Mr. Strange."

"I was just going up to change."

Leach interrupted.

"Excuse me, Mr. Strange. Change into

what? Int0 evening dress or out of evening

dress?"

"Neither. I was wearing a blue suit my

best, as it happened, and as it was raining

a bit and I proposed to take the ferry and

walk the other side it's about half a mile, as

you know--I changed into an older suit a

grey pin stripe if you want me to go into

every detsil."

"We do like to get things clear," said Leach humbly. "Please go on."

"I was going upstairs, as I say, when

Hurstall came and told me Lady Tressilian

wanted to see me, so I went along and had

a a jaw with her for a bit."

Battle said gently:

"You were the last person to see her alive, I think, Mr. Strange?"

Nevile flushed.

"Yes yes I suppose I was. She was

quite all right then."

"How long were you with her?"

"About twenty minutes to half an hour,

I should think, then I went to my room,

changed my suit and hurried off. I took the

latchkey with me."

"What time was that?"

"About half past ten, I should think. I

hurried down the hill, just caught the ferry

starting and went on as planned. I found

Latimer at the Hotd, we had a drink or two

and a game of billiards. The time passed

so quickly that I found I'd lost the last ferry back. It goes at one thirty. So Latimer very

decently got out his car and drove me back.

That, as you know, means going all the way

round by Saltington sixteen miles. We left

the Hotel at two o'clock and got back here

somewhere around half past, I should say. I

thanked Ted Latimer, asked him in for a

drink, but he said he'd rather get straight

back, so I let myself in and went straight up

to bed. I didn't hear or see anything amiss.

The house seemed all asleep and peaceful.

Then this morning I heard that girl scream-ing

and "

Leach stopped him.

-your conversation with Lady Tressilian she

was qmte normal in her marmot>"

"Oh, absolutely."

"What did you talk'about?"

"Oh, one thing and another."

"AmicablY?"

Nevile flushed.

"Certainly."

"You didn't for instance," went on Leach smoothly, "have a violent quarrel?"

Nevile did not answer at once. Leach said:

i,.."Y.o.u had better tell the truth, you know. n ten you frankly some of your conversation

was overheard."

Nevile said shortly:

"We had a bit of a disagreement. It was

nothing."

"What was the subject of the disagreement?''

With an effort Nevile recovered his temper.

He smiled.

T'Fr ady," he said, "she ticked me off. at often happened. If .she disapproved of

anyone she let them have t straight from the

Shoulder.

She .was old-fashioned, you see,

and she was reclined to be down on modem

Ways

and modem

Voree-all that. We hl}ns.degf thought--di

"No, Mr.

handled it in

it to strike

marks."

perfectly friendly terms agreeing to differ." He added, with some heat, "I certainly didn't bash her over the head because I lost my

temper over an argument if that's what you

think?'

Leach glanced at Battle. Battle leaned for-ward ponderously across the table. He said:

"You recognized that niblick as your prop-erty this morning. Have you any explanation

for the fact that your fingerprints were found

upon it?"

Nevile stared. He said sharply:

"I .but of course they would be it's my

club . ..I've often handled it."

"Any explanation, I mean, for the fact

that your fingerprints show that you were the

last person to have handled it."

Nevile sat quite still. The color had gone

out of his face.

"That's not true," he said at last. "It can't be. Somebody could have handled it after

me someone wearing gloves."

Strange nobody could have

the sense you mean .by raising

without blurring your own

There was a pause

a very long pause.

.gave a long shudder..He put his hands over

his eyes. The two policemen watched him.

Then he took away his hands. He sat up

straight.

isn]'It isn't true," he said ui "It

t true. You think I q'-"tl'Y' simply

,

.

r, mea her, but .I

didn t: I swear I didn't. There's some homble rmstake."

"You've no explanation to offer about those

PSmgerprints ?"

"How can I have? I' ,,.-.Lr .

m ,,.mtouncled.-"Have

you any explanataon for the fact

that the sleeves and cuffs of your dark blue

suit are stained with blood?"

"Blood?" It was a horror-struck whisper.

"It couldn't be!"

"You didn't, for instance, cut yourself---"

"No. No, of course I didn't!"

They waited a little while.

Nevile Strange, his forehead creased,

seemed to be thinking. He looked up at

them at last with frightened horrorstricken

eyes.

"It's fantastic!" he said. "Simply fantastic. It's none of it true."

"Facts are true enough," said Superintentlent Battl,

unthinkable unbelievable! I've know

milla all my life."

Leach coughed.

"I believe you told us yourself, r

Strange, that you come into a good demeanor

money upon Lady Tressilian's death?" deg

"You think that's why

But I don't I't wt

money! I don't need it!"

"That," said Leach, with his little

"is what you say, Mr. Strange."

Nevile sprang up.

"Look here, that's something I can p:oro,e. That I didn't need money. Let me ring

up my bank manager--you can talk too

yourself."

The call was put through. The line-' Was

clear and in a very few minutes they 'Were

through to London. Nevile spoke:

"That you, Ronaldson? Nevile Str:'ange

speaking. You know my voice. Look .l:here,

will you give the police they're here noow

all the information they want about my al.

fairs Yes Yes, please."

Leach took the phone. He spoke quketly.

It went on, question and answer.

He replaced the phone at last.

"Well," said Nevile eagerly.

Leach said impassively, "You have a

substantial credit balance, and the bank has

you'll agree, Mr. Strange, to ask for a war

charge

of all your investments and reports

them to be in a favorable condition."

"So you see it's true what I said!"

"It seems so but again, Mr. Strange, you

may have commitments, debts payment of

blackmail reasons for requiring money of

which we do not know."

"But I haven't! I assure you I haven't.

You won't find anyttfing of that kind."

Superintendent Battle shifted his heavy

shoulders. He spoke in a kind fatherly voice.

"We've sufficient evidence, as I'm sure

rant for your arrest. We haven't done so

as yet.t We're giving you the benefit of the

doubt, you see."

Nevile said bitterly:

"You mean, don't you, that you've made

up your minds I did it, but you want to get

at the motive so as to clinch the case against

me?"

Battle was silent. Leach looked at the ceil-ing.

Nevile said desperately:

"It's like some awful dream. There's noth-ing I can say or do. It's like being in a trap

and you can't get out."

Suterintendent Battle stirred. An intelli

gent gleam showed between his half-closed

lids.

"That's very nicely put," he said. "Very

nicely put indeed. It gives me an idea "

VI

Sergeant

Jones adroitly got rid of Ne

ile through the hall and dining room and

then brought Kay in by the French window

so that husband and wife did not

meet.

"He'll see all the others, though,"

Leaach

remarked.

"All the better," said Battle. "It's o0nly this one I want to deal with whilst she's sstill in the

dark."

The day was overcast with a sharp

w',tind.

Kay was dressed in a tweed skirt

n.d a purple sweater above

which her hair 10obked like a burnished

copper bowl. She 10obked half frightened, half

excited. Her beauty: and vitality bloomed

against the dark Victorian

background of books and saddleback charles.

Leach led her

easily enough over her r

ac-count of the previous evening.

She had had a

headache and gone to , bed early about

quarter past nine, she th0u. l

ght'

She

had

slet

t

heavilv

and

heard

nothi

e

til the next morning when she was wakened

by heating someone screaming.

Battle took up the questioning.

"Your husband didn't come in to see how

you were before he went off for the eve/ing?"

"No.'

"You didn't see him from the time you

left the drawing room until the following

morning. Is that right?"

Kay nodded.

Battle stroked his jaw.

"Mrs. Strange, the door between your

room and that of your husband was locked.

Who locked it?"

Kay said shortly: "I did."

Baffle said nothing but he waited

waited like an elderly fatherly cat for a

mouse to come out of the hole he was watch-ing.

His silence did what questions might not

have accomplished. Kay burst out impetu-ously:

"Oh, I suppose you've got to have it all!

That old doddenng Hurstall must have heard

us before tea and he'll tell you if I don't.

He's probably told you already. Nevile and I

had had a row a flaming row! I was furious

With him! I went un to bed and locked the

door because I was still in a flaming rage

with him!"

"I see I see," said Battle at his most sympathetic. "And what was the trouble all about?"

"Does it matter? Oh, I don't mind telling

you. Nevile has been behaving like a perfect

idiot. It's all that woman's fault, though."

"What woman?"

"His first wife. She got him to come here

in the first place."

"You mean to meet you?"

"Yes. Nevile thinks it was all his own

idea poor innocent! But it wasn't. He never

thought of such a thing until he met her in

the Park one day and she got the idea into

his head and made him believe he'd thought

of it himself. He quite honestly thinks it was

his idea, but I've seen Audrey's fine Italian

hand behind it from the first."

"Why should she do such a thing?" asked Battle.

"Because she wanted to get hold of him

again," said Kay. She spoke quickly and her breath came fast. "She's never forgiven him for going off with me. This is her revenge.

She got him to fix up that we'd all be here

together and then she got to work on him.

She's been doine it ever since we arrived.

She's clever, you know. Knows just how to

look pathetic and elusive yes, and how to

play up another man, too. She got Thomas

Royde, a faithful old dog who's always adored

her, to be here at the same time, and she

drove Nevile mad by pretending she was

going to marry him."

She stopped, breathing angrily.

Battle said mildly:

"I should have thought he'd be glad for

her to er find happiness with an old

friend."

"Glad? He's jealous as hell!"

"Then he must be very fond of her."

"Oh, he is," said Kay bitterly. "She's seen to that!"

Battle's f'mger still ran dubiously over his

jaW.

"You might have objected to this arrange-ment of coming here?" he suggested.

"How could I? It would have looked as

though I were jealous!"

"Well," said Battle, "after all, you were, weren't you?"

Kay flushed.

"Always! I've always been

Audrey. Right from the beginning

the beginning. I used to feel her there in

the house. It was as though it were her house,

jealous of

or nearly

not mine. I changed the color scheme ,t

did it all up but it was no good! I'd feel h:

there like a grey ghost Creeping about. I

knew Nevile worried because he thought

he'd treated her badly. He couldn't quite

forget about her she was always there--a

reproachful feeling at the back of his mind.

There are people, you know, who are like

that. They seem rather colorless and not very

interesting but they make themselves felt." Battle nodded thoughtfully. He said:

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Strange. That's all at present. We have to ask er a good

many questions especially with your hus-band

inheriting so much money from Lady

Tressilian fifty thousand pounds "

"Is it as much as that? We get it from old

Sir Matthew's will, don't we?"

"You know all about it?"

"Oh, yes. He left it to be divided be-tween Nevile and Nevile's wife. Not that I'm

glad the old thing is dead. I'm not. I didn't

like her very much probably because she

didn't like me but it's too horrible to think

of some burglar coming along and cracking

her head open."

She went out on that. Battle looked at

Leach.

"What do you think of her? Good-lookine

bit of goods, I will say. A man could lose his

head over her easy enough."

Leach agreed.

"Doesn't seem to be quite a lady, though," he said dubiously.

"They aren,t nowadays," said Battle.

"Shall we see No. 1 ? No, I think we'll have Miss Aldin next, and get an outside angle on

this matrimonial business."

Mary Aldin came in composedly and sat

down. Beneath her outward calmness her

eyes looked worried.

She answered Leach's questions clearly

enough, confirming Nevile's account of the

evening. She had come up to bed about ten

o'clock.

"Mr. Strange was then with Lady Tressilian?"

"Yes, I could hear them talking."

"Talking, Miss Aldin, or quarreling?" She flushed but answered quietly:

"Lady Tressilian, you know, was fond of

discussion. She often sounded acrimonious

when she was really nothing of the kind. Also, she was inclined to be autocratic and to domineer over people and a .man doesn't

take that kind of thing as easily as a woman

does."

"As you do, perhaps," thought Battle.

He lot)ked at her intelligent face. It was

who broke the silence.

she"I don't wmt to be stupid---but it really seems to rn incredible--quite increbl.e,

that you sh.Uld suspect one of the people m

this houge. WIy shouldn't it be an outsider?"

"For sever reasons, Miss Aldin. For one

thing, nothdng was taken and no entry was

forced. I reedn't remind you of the geography

t)f 5oor own house and grounds, but

just bea thfis in mind. On the west is a sheer

cliff down to the sea, to the south are a

couple cfi t, erraces with a wall and a drop to the sea, or tlxe east the garden slopes down

almost t:o 'tahe shore, but it is surrounded by a high xval. The only ways out are a small

door ledirg through on to the road which

was foumd bolted inside as usual this morning

and thee main door to the house which is

set on te :road. I'm not saying no one could

climb tlhat wall, nor that they could not have

got m ly rasing a spare k.ey tdeg.,the frothrt

or even a tskeleton key--bu.t m say g ,

as far aB I can see no one did do anythi., g o. the sort, XWhoever committed this crime elmvy

at Ba:axe'.tt took senna pod infusion .

mght ad doped it---that means someo--ne, hme

the hose. The niblick was tagen from

cupboard under the stairs.

vid, Mbs Aldin."

"It wasn't Nevile! I'm

Nevile!"

"Why are you so sure?"

She raised her hands hopelessly.

"It just isn't like him that's why!

wouldn't kill a defenseless old woman

bed Nev//e!"

"It doesn't

It wasn't an out

sure it wasn't

He

seem very likely," said Battle

reasonably, "but you'd be surprised at the things people do when they've got a good

enough reason. Mr. Strange may have wanted

money very badly."

"I'm sure he didn't. He's not an extravagant person he never has been."

"No, but his wife is."

"Kay? Yes, perhaps but, oh, it's too ridiculous. I'm sure the last thing Nevile has

been thinking of lately is money."

Superintendent Battle coughed.

"He's had other worries, I understand?"

"Kay told you, I suppose? Yes, it really

has been rather difficult. Still, it's nothing to do with this dreadful business."

"Probably not, but all the same I'd like to hear your version of the affair, Miss Aldin." Mary said slowly:

"Well, as I saw. it ha.

situation. Whoever's idea it was to begin

with "

He interrupted her deftly.

"I understood it was Mr. Nevile Strange's

idea?"

"He said it was."

"But you yourself didn't think so?"

"I no. it isn't like Nevile somehow. I've

had a feeling all along that somebody else

put the idea into his head."

"Mrs. Audrey Strange, perhaps?"

"It seems incredible that Audrey should

do such. a thing."

"Then who else could it have been?"

Mary raised her shoulders helplessly.

"I don't know. It's just-queer."

"Queer," said Battle thoughtfully. "That's what I feel about this case. It's queer."

"Everything's been queer. There's been

a feeling I can't describe it. Something in

the air. A menace."

"Everybody stnmg up ad on edge?"

"Ye.s, just that We've

all suffered

*

'

-"' '

S

from t. Even Mr. Laurne

he stopped.

"I was just coming to

. Latimer. What can you tell me,

Miss

Aldin,

about

Mr.

'r * ?,,

Latimer?

Who is Mr. Lanner

"Well, really, I

don't

how

much

about

."He's Mrs. Stranee's friend? Known each

other a long time?" '

"Yes,

"Nix.

she kne.w., him before her marriage." trange like him?"

"Quite well, I believe."

"No--trouble there?"

Battle put it .delicately. Mary replied at

once and emphaucally:

"Certainly not!"

"Did Lady Tressilian like Mr. Latimer?"

"Not very much."

h Battl. e took warning from the aloof tone of

er voice and changed the su '

"TM-' bject.

ms maa, now, J.ane Barrett., she has

been with Lady Tressan a long time? You

consider her trustworthy?,,

"Oh, absolutely. She was devoted to Lady

Tressilian."

Battle leaned back in his ch;

m'mInenfa,ct

you-.w..ouldn't cnnider, for a

* t the possibility that Barrett hit Lad.

T,r?silian .over .the head and then do,,a .Y

set to avoid being suspected?"

v-,, -c "Of course not. Why on earth should she?"

"She gets a legacy, you know."

"So do I," said Mary Aldin.

She looked at him steadily.

"Mr. Trelawny has just arrived. He told

me."

"You didn't know about it beforehand?"

"No. I certainly assumed, from what Lady

Tressilian occasionally let fall, that she had

left me something. I have very little of my

own, you know. Not enough to live on without

getting work of some kind. I thought

that Lady Tressilian would leave me at least

a hundred a year .. but she has some cousins

and I did not at all know how she proposed to leave that money which was hers to dispose of. I knew, of course, that Sir Matthew's

estate went to Nevile and Audrey."

"So she didn't know what Lady Tressilian

was leaving her," Leach said when Mary

Aldin had been dismissed. "At least that's what she says."

"That's what she says," agreed Battle.

"And now for Bluebeard's first wife."

VII

Audrey was wearing a pale grey flannel coat

and skirt. In it she looked so pale and ghostlike that Battle was reminded of Kay's words,

"A grey ghost creeping about the house."

She antswered his questions simply and

without amy signs of emotion.

Yes, sine had gone to bed at ten o'clock,

the same 'time as Miss Aldin. She had heard

nothing dturing the night.

"You'llt excuse me butting into your pri vate affaiirs," said Battle, "but will you

explain jutst how it comes about that you are

here in the house?"

"I always come to stay at this time. This

year, my my late husband wanted to come

at the sane time and asked me if I would

mind."

"It was his suggesuon.

"Oh, yes."

"Not yours?"

"Oh, ILO."

"But you agreed?"

"Yes, I agreed I

didn't feel that

I

could very well refuse."

"Why

not, Mrs. Strange?" But

she was vague.

"One

doesn't like to be disobliging." "You were the injured party?" "I

beg your pardon?"

"It

was you who divorced your husband?" "Yes."

"Do you--excuse me--feel any rancor a

ainst

him?"

"No -nt at all."

"You have a very forgiving nature, Mrs.

Strange."

She did not answer. He fried silence but

Audrey Was not Kay to be thus goaded into

speech. Se could remain silent without any

hint of un,,asiness. Baffle acknowledged himself beater.

"You axe sure it was not your idea this

meeting?'*

"Quite sure."

"You axe on friendly tes with the pre-ent

Mrs. :Strange?"

"I dont think she likes rae very much."

"Do Y%u like her?"

"Yes. 1I think she is verY beautiful."

"Well-thank you -I that is all."

She g%t up and w-alkedtowards the doo00r.

Then shee hesitated and ce back.

"I wculd just like to say "she spo!lke nervousl,-y and quickly. 'You think Nevi-:ile

did thisthat he killed er because of -t-she

money. I'm quite sure 0t isn't so. New,Ale

has nev.er cared much ,bout money. I . do

know tat. I was marrid to. him for eilight

years, ou know. I justan't see him kz$illing

anycone like that for 0ney it it is:sn't

great value as evidence but I do wish you

would believe it."

She turned and hurried out of the room.

"And what do you make of her?" asked

Leach. "I've never seen anyone so so de-void of emotion."

"She didn't show any," said Battle. "But it's there. Some very strong emotion. And

I don't know what it is... ."

VIII

Thomas Royde came last. He sat, solemn

and stiff, blinking a little like an owl.

He was home from Malaya first time for

eight years. Had been in the habit of stay-lng

at Gull's Point ever since he was a boy.

Mrs. Audrey Strange was a distant cousin

and had been brought up by his family from

the age of nine. On the preceding night he

had gone to bed just before eleven. Yes, he

had heard Mr. Nevile Strange leave the house

but had not seen him. Nevile had left at

about twenty past ten or perhaps a little

later. He himself had heard nothing during

the night. He was up and in the garden

when the discovery of Lady Tressilian's body

had been made. He was an early riser.

There was a pause.

"Miss Aldin has told us that there was a

state of tension in the house. Did you notice

this too?"

"I don't think so. Don't notice things

much."

"That's a lie," thought Battle to himself.

"You notice a good deal, I should say more than most."

No, he didn't think Nevile Strange had

been short of money in any way. He certainly

had not seemed so. But he knew very

little about Mr. Strange's affairs.

"How well did you know the second Mrs. Strange?"

"I met her here for the first time."

Battle played his last card.

"You may know, Mr. Royde, that we've

found Mr. Nevile Strange's fingerprints on

the weapon. And we've found blood on the

sleeve of the coat he wore last night."

He paused. Royde nodded.

"He was telling us," he muttered.

"I'm asking you frankly: Do you think he

did it?"

Thomas Royde never liked to be hurried.

He waited for a minute which is a very

long time before he answered:

"Don't see why you ask me? Not my

business. It's yours. Should say myself very

tm ikely."

"Can you think of anyone who seems to

you more likely?"

Thomas shook his head.

"Only person I think likely can't possibly

have done it. So that's that."

"And who is that?"

But Royde shook his head more decid-edly.

"Couldn't possibly say. Only my private

opinion."

"It's your duty to assist the police."

"Tell you any facts. This isn't fact. Just idea. And it's impossible, anyway."

"We didn't get much out of him," said

Leach when Royde had gone.

Battle agreed.

"No, we didn't. He's got something in his

mind something quite definite. I'd like to

know what it is. This is a very peculiar sort

of crime, Jim, my boy "

The telephone rang before Leach could

answer. He took up the receiver and spoke.

After a minute or two of listening he said

"Good," and slammed it down.

"Blood on the coat sleeve is human," he announced. "Same blood groul as Lady T.'s.

Looks as though Nevile Strange is in for

it "

Battle had walked over to the window and

was looking out with considerable interest.

"A beautiful young man out there," he remarked. "Quite beautiful and a definite

wrong 'un, I should say. It's a pity Mr. Lati-mer for I feel that that's Mr. Latimer was

over at Easterhead Bay last night. He's the

type that would smash in his own grand-mother's head if he thought he could get

away with it and if he knew he'd make some-thing out of it."

"Well, there wasn't anything in it for

him," said Leach. "Lady T.'s death doesn't benefit him in any way whatever." The tele-phone bell rang again. "Damn this phone,

what's the matter now?"

He went to it.

"Hullo. Oh, it's you, Doctor? What? Come

round, has she? What? What?"

He turned his head. "Uncle, just come

and listen to this."

Battle came over and took the phone. He

listened, his face as usual showing no expres-sion. He said to Leach:

"Get Nevile Strange, Jim."

When Nevile came in, Battle was just

replacing the phone on its hook.

Nevile, looking white and spent, stared

curiously at the Scotland Yard Superinten-dent, trying to read the emotion behind the

wooden mask.

"Mr. Strange," said Battle. "Do you know

anyone who dislikes you very much?"

Nevile stared and shook his head.

"Sure?" Battle was impressive. "I mean,

sir, someone who does more than dislike you

someone who frankly hates your guts?"

Nevile sat bolt upright.

"No. No, certainly not. Nothing of the

kind."

"Think, Mr. Strange. Is there no one

you've injured in any way "

Nevile flushed.

"There's only one person I can be said

to have injured and she's not the kind who

bears rancor. That's my first wife when I

left her for another woman. But I can assure

you that she doesn't hate me. She's she's

been an angel."

The Superintendent leaned forward across

the table.

"Let me tell you, Mr. Strange; you're a

very lucky man. I don't say I liked the case

against you I didn't. But it was a case! It

would have stood up all right, and unless the

jury happened to have liked your personality,

it would have hanged you."

"You speak," said Nevile, "as though all that were past?"

"It is past," said Battle. "You've been saved, Mr. Strange, by pure chance."

Nevile still looked inquiringly at him.

"After you left her last night," said Battle,

"Lady Tressilian rang the bell for her maid." He watched whilst Nevile took it in. "After .... Then Barrett saw her "

"Yes. Alive and well. Barrett also saw you leave the house before she went in to her

mistress."

Nevile said:

"But the niblick my fingerprints "

"She wasn't hit with that niblick. Dr.

Lazenby didn't like it at the time. I saw that. She was killed with something else. That

niblick was put there deliberately to throw

suspicion on you. It may be by someone who

overheard the quarrel and so selected you as

a suitable victim, or it may be because"

He paused, and then repeated his question:

"Who is there in this house that hates

IX

"I've got a question for you, Doctor," said Battle.

They were in the doctor's house after re-turning from the nursing home where they

had had a short interview with Jane Barrett.

Barrett was weak and exhausted but quite

clear in her statement.

She had been just getting into bed after

drinking her senna when Lady Tressilian's

bell had rung. She had glanced at the clock

and seen the time twenty-five minutes past

ten.

She had put on her dressing gown and

come down. She had heard a noise in the

hall below and had looked over the balusters.

"It was Mr. Nevile just going out. He was

taking his raincoat down from the hook."

"What suit was he wearing?"

"His grey pin stripe. His face was very

worried and unhappy-looking. He shoved

his arms into his coat as though he didn't

care how he put it on. Then he went out and

banged the front door behind him. I went

on in to her ladyship. She was very drowsy,

poor dear, and couldn't remember why she

had rung for me she couldn't always, poor

ladv. But I beat ut her tillows and brought

her a fresh glass of water and settled her

COortably.,,

"8he didn't seem upset or afraid of

"lust tired, that's all. I was tired myself. Yahaing. I went up and went right off to

slei ,,

* ]at was Barrett's story and it seemed

Impossible to doubt her genuine grief and

honor at the news of her mistress' death.

ey went back to Lazenby's house and it

wa then that Battle announced that he had a

question to ask.

"Ask away," said Lazenby.

"What time do you think Lady Tressilian

die l?,,

."I've told you. Between ten o'clock and

rmght."

know that's what you said. But it wasn't

my question. I asked you what you, personall,

thought?"

Off the record, eh?"

"Yes."

i'All right* My guess would be in the

nejhborhood of eleven o'clock."

"That's what I wanted you to say," said Battle.

'Glad to oblige. Why?"

Nloxrov did like the idea of her beine

killed before 10.20. Take Barrett's sleeping

draught it wouldn't have got to work by

then. That sleeping draught shows that the

murder was meant to be committed a good

deal later during the night. I'd prefer mid-night, myself."

"Could be. Eleven is only a guess."

"But it definitely couldn't be later than

midnight?"

"It couldn't be after 2.30?"

"Good heavens, no."

"Well, that seems to let Strange out all

right. I'll just have to check up on his move-ments after he left the house. If he's telling

the truth, he's washed out and we can go on

to our other suspects."

"The other people who inherit money?" suggested Leach.

"Maybe," said Battle. "But somehow, I don't think so. Someone with a kink, I'm

looking for."

"A kink?"

"A nasty kink."

When they left the doctor's house they went

down to the ferry. The ferry consisted of

a rowing boat operated by two brothers, Will

and George Barnes. The Barnes brothers

knew everybody in Saltcreek by sight and

most of the people who came over from

Easterhead Bay. George said at once that

Mr. Strange from Gull's Point had gone

across at 10.30 on the preceding night. No,

he had not brought Mr. Strange back again.

Last ferry had gone at 1.30 from the

Easterhead side and Mr. Strange wasn't on

it.

Battle asked him if he knew Mr. Latimer.

"Latimer? Latimer? Tall, handsome young

gentleman? Comes over from the hotel up

to Gull's Point? Yes, I know him. Didn't see

him at all last night, though. He's been over

this morning. Went back last trip."

They crossed on the ferry and went up to

the Easterhead Bay Hotel.

Here they found Mr. Latimer newly re-turned

from the other side. He had crossed

on the ferry before theirs.

Mr. Latimer was very anxious to do all he

could to help.

"Yes, old Nevile came over last night.

Looked very blue over something. Told me

he'd had a row with the old lady. I hear

he'd fallen out with Kay too, but he didn't

tell me that, of course. Anyway, he was a bit

down in the mouth. Seemed quite glad of

"He wasn't able to find you at once, I

understand?"

Latimer said sharply:

"Don't know why. I was sitting in the

lounge. Strange said he looked in and didn't

see me, but he wasn't in a state to concentrate. Or I may have strolled out into the

gardens for five .minutes or so. Always get

out when I can. Beastly smell in this hotel.

Noticed it last night in the bar. Drains, I

think! Strange mentioned it too! We both

smelt it. Nasty decayed smell. Might be a

dead rat under the billiard room floor."

"You played billiards, and after your

game?"

"Oh, we talked a bit, had another drink

or two. Then Nevile said, 'Hullo, I've missed

the ferry,' so I said I'd get out my car and

drive him back, which I did. We got there

about 2.30."

"And Mr. Strange was with you all the

evening?"

"Oh, yes. Ask anybody. They'll tell you.'

"Thank you, Mr. Latimer. We have to be

8o careful."

Leach said as they left the smiling, self-possessed young man:

"What's the idea of checking up so care

Battle smiled. Leach got it suddenly.

"Good Lord, it's the other one you're

checking up on. So that's your idea."

"It's too soon to have ideas," said Bat-fie.

"I've just got to know exactly where

Mr. Ted Latimer was last night. We know

that from quarter past eleven say to after

midnight he was with Nevile Strange. But

where was he before that when Strange ar-rived

and couldn't find him?"

They pursued their inquiries doggedly--with

bar attendants, waiters, lift boys. Lati-mer

had been seen in the lotmge room be-tween

nine and ten. He had been in the bar

at a quarter past ten. But between that time

and eleven twenty, he seemed to have been

singularly elusive. Then one of the maids

was found who declared that Mr. Latimer

had been "in one of the small writing rooms with Mrs.' Beddoes.. that's the fat North

country lady."

Pressed as to time she said she thought it

was about deven o'clock.

"That tears it," said Battle gloomily.

"He was here all fight. Just didn't want

attention drawn to his fat (and no doubt

rich) lady friend. That throws us back on

those others the servants, Kay Strange,

Audrey Strange, Mary Aldin and Thomas

Royde. One of them killed the old lady, but

which? If we could f'md the real weapon "

He stopped, then slapped his thigh.

"Got it, Jim, my boy! I know now what

made me think of Hercule Po'trot. We'll have

a spot of lunch and go back to Gull's Point

and I'll show you something."

X

Mary Aldin was restless. She went in and

out of the house, picked off a dead dahlia

head here and there, went back into the

drawing room and shifted flower vases in an

unmeaning fashion.

From the library came a vague murmur

of voices. Mr. Trelawny was in there with

Nevile. Kay and Audrey were nowhere to be

seen.

Mary went out in the garden again. Down

by the wall she spied Thomas Royde placidly

smoking. She went and joined him.

"Oh, dear." She sat down beside him with a deep perplexed sigh.

"Anything the matter?" Thomas asked.

Mary laughed with a slight note of hysteria

in the laugh.

"Nobody but you would say a thine like

tat. A murder in the house and you juust

Sy, 'Is anything the matter?'"

Looking a little surprised, Thomas said:::

"I meant anything fresh?"

"Oh, I know what you meant. It's reallyy a onderfifi relief to f'md anyone so glofiomsly

Jst-the-same-as-usual as you are!"

"Not much good, is it, getting all het up

OVer things?"

"No, no. You're eminently sensible. IIt's

hw you manage to do it beats me."

"Well, I suppose I'm an outsider."

"That's true, of course. You can't feel 'the rlief all the rest of us do that Nevile is

Cleared."

"I'm very pleased he is, of course,'.' sd

Royde.

Mary shuddered.

"It was a very near thing. If Camilla hadn't taken it into her head to ring the bell flor

Barrett after Nevile had left her "

She left the sentence unfinished. Thomas

f'hfished it for her.

"Then old Nevile would have been in for

it all right."

He spoke with a certain grim satisfaction,

then shook his head with a slight smile, as

he met Mary's reproachful gaze.

"I'm not realiv heartless, but now that

Nevile's all right I can't help being pleased

he had a bit of a shaking up. He's always so

danmed complacent."

"He isn't really, Thomas."

"Perhaps not. It's just his manner. Any-way he was looking scared as hell this mom

ing!"

"What

a creel streak you have!"

"Well, he's all fight now. You know,

Mary, even here Nevile has had the devil's

own luck. Some other poor beggar with all

that evidence piled up against him mightn't

have had such a break."

Mary shivered again.

"Don't say that. I like to think the inno-cent are protected."

"Do you, my dear?" His voice was gentle. Mary burst out suddenly.

"Thomas, I'm worried. I'm frightfully

worried."

"Yes."

"It's about Mr. Treves."

Thomas dropped his pipe on the stones.

His voice changed as he bent to pick it up.

"What about Mr. Treves?"

"That night he was here that story he

told about a little murderer! I've been

wondering, Thomas .... Was it just a story?

Or did he tell it with a turtxse?"

"You mean," said Royde deliberately,

"was it aimed at someone who was in the

room?"

Mary whispered, "Yes."

Thomas said quietly:

"I've been wondering, too. As a matter of

fact that was what I was thinking about when

you came along just now."

Mary half closed her eyes.

"I've been trying to remember He told

it, you know, so very deliberately ....

He

almost dragged it into the conversation. And

he said he would recognize the person anywhere. He emphasized that. As though he

had recognized him."

"Mm,"

said Thomas. "I've been through all

that."

"But

why should he do it? What was the point?"

"I

suppose," said Royde, "it was a kind of

warning.

Not to try anything on."

"You

mean that Mr. Treves knew then that

Camilla was going to be murdered?"

"No.

I think that's too fantastic. It may have

been just a general warning."

"What

I've been wondering is, do you think

we ought to tell the police?"

To

that Thomas again gave his thoughtful consideration.

"I think not," he said at last. "I don't see that t s relevant ..m any way. It s not as

though Treves were alive and could tell them

"No," said Mary. "He's dead? She gave a quick shiver. "It's so odd, Thomas, the

way he died."

"Heart attack. He had a bad heart."

"I mean that curious business about the

lift being out of order. I don't like it."

"I don't like it very much myself," said Thomas Royde.

XI

Superintendent Battle looked round the bedroom. The bed had been made. Otherwise

the room was unchanged. It had been neat

when they first looked round it. It was neat

now.

"That's it," said Superintendent Battle, pointing to the old-fashioned steel fender.

"Do you see anything odd about that

fender?"

"Must take some cleaning," said Jim

Leach. "It's well kept. Nothing odd about

it that I can see, except--yes, the left-hand

knob is brighter than the right-hand one."

"That's what put Hercule Poirot into my

head," said Battle. "You know his fad about things not being quite symmetrical gets

him all worked up. I suppose I thought un-consciously,

'That would worry old Poirot,'

and then I began talking about him. Got

your fingerprint kit, Jones? We'll have a look

at those two knobs."

Jones reported presently.

"There are prints on the right-hand knob,

sir, none on the left."

"It's the left one we want, then. Those

other prints are the housemaid's when she

last cleaned it. That left-hand one has been

cleaned since."

"There was a bit of screwed-up emery

paper in this wastepaper basket," volunteered Jones. "I didn't think it meant anything."

"Because you didn't know what you were

looking for, then. Gently now, I'll bet any-thing you like that knob unscrews yes, I

thought so."

Presently Jones held the knob up.

"It's a good weight," he said, weighing it in his hands.

Leach, bending over it, said:

"There's something dark on the screw."

"Blood, as likely as not," said Battle.

"Cleaned the knob itself and witted it and

that little stain on the screw wasn't noticed.

I'll bet anything you like that's the weapon

that caved the old lady's skull in. But there's more to find. It's up to you, Jones, to search

the house again. This time you'll know exactly

what you're looking for."

He gave a few swift detailed instructions.

Going to the window, he put his head out.

"There's something yellow tucked into the

ivy. That may be another piece of the puzzle.

I rather think it is."

XII

Crossing the hall, Superintendent Battle was

waylaid by Mary Aldin.

"Can I speak to you a minute, Superintendent?''

"Certainly, Miss Aldin. Shall we come in

here?"

He threw open the dining-room door.

Lunch had been cleared away by Hurstall.

"I want to ask you something, Superintendent. Surely you don't, you can't still think

that this that awfixl crime was done by one

of us? It must have been someone from outside!

Some maniac!"

"You mav not be far wrone there. Miss

criminal very well if I'm not4nistaken.

not an outsider."

is

Maniac is a word that describes this

But

Her eyes opened very wdde.

"Do you mean that somaeone in this house

is mad?"

"You're thinking," sai'd the Superintendent,

"of someone foamin at the mouth and

rolling their eyes. Mania isn't like that. Some of the most dangerous c 'nrminal lunatics have

looked as sane as you or I. It's a question,

usually, of having an obssession. One idea,

preying on the mind, gradually distorting it.

Pathetic, reasonable peopl.le who come up to

you and explain how th,.ey're being persecuted

and how everyone is spying on them

and you sometimes feel it must all be true."

"I'm sure nobody here has any ideas of

being persecuted."

"I only gave that as an instance. There

are other forms of insarity. But I believe

whoever committed this ccime was under the

domination of one fixed idea an idea on

which they had brooded until literally

nothing else mattered oc had any importance.''

Mary shivered. She said:

"There's something, I think, you ought to

Concisely and clearly she told him of Mr.

Treves' visit to dinner and of the story he

had told. Superintendent Battle was deeply

interested. "He said he could recognize this person? man or woman, by the way?"

"I took it that it was a boy the story was about but it's true Mr. Treves didn't actu-ally say so in fact I remember now he

distinctly stated he would not give any par-ticulars as to sex or age."

"Did he? Rather significant, perhaps. And

he said there was a definite physical peculiar-ity by which he could be sure of knowing

this child anywhere."

"Yes."

"A scar, perhaps has anybody here got a

SCar?"

He noticed the faint' hesitation before Mary

Aldin replied:

"Not that I have noticed."

"Come now, Miss Aldin." He smiled.

"You have noticed something. If so, don't

you think that I shall be able to notice it,

too?"

She shook her head.

"I I haven't noticed anything of the

kind."

But he saw that she was startled and up-set.

His words had obviously sueeested a

very unpleasant train of thought to her/. He

wished he knew just what it was, but his

experience made him aware that to press her

at this minute would not yield any result.

He brought the conversation back to old

Mr. Treves.

Mary told him of the tragic sequel to the

evening.

Battle questioned her at some length. Then

he said quietly:

"That's a new one on me. Never come

across that before."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never come across a murder commit.

ted by the simple expedient of hanging a

placard on a lift."

She looked horrified.

"You don't really think "

"That it was murder? Of course it was!

Quick, resourceful murder. It might not have

come off, of course--but it did come off."

"Just because Mr. Treves knew "

"Yes. Because he would have been able

to direct our attention to one particular pet.

son in this house. As it is, we've started i

the dark. But we've got a glimmer of light

now, and every minute the case is getting

clearer. I'll tell you this, Miss Aldin--s

hand do.wn to the sm.allest detail. And I

want to ampress one thing on your mind ...

don't let anybody kno. w. that you've told me

what you have. That s maportant. Don't tell

anyone, mind."

Mary nodded. She was still looking dazed.

Superintendent Battle went out of the

room and proceeded to do what he had been

about to do when Mary Aldin intercepted

him. He was a methodical man. He wanted

certain information, and a new and promis-ing

hare did not distract him from the or-derly

performance of his duties, however

tempting this new hare might be.

He tapped on the library door, and Nevile

Strange's voice called, "Come in.".

Battle was introduced to Mr. Trelawny, a

tall, distinguished-looking man with a keen

dark eye.

"Sorry if I am butting in," said Super-intendent Battle apologetically. "But there's

something I haven't got clear. You, Mr.

Strange, inherit half the late Sir Matthew's

estate, but who inherits the other half?." Nevile looked surprised.

"I told you. My wife."

"Yes. But "Battle coughed in a depre-cating manner, "which wife, Mr. Strange?"

The mtfeY goers to Audrey who was my wife

at the time the will was made. That's fight,

Mr. Trelawny."

The lawyer assented.

"The bequest is quite clearly worded.

The esta, te is to be. divided between Sir

MattheC/ s war:.d Nevile Hetn'y Strange, and

his wi(e Auqtrey Elizabeth Strange n&

Standi. The subsequent divorce makes no

differe:lce wha'Ltever."

"Tlot's cle, then," said Battle. "I take it Mrs, Audr.ey Strange is fully aware of

these ffocts?"

"Ce::tatmy, ' said Mr. TrC/lawny.

"Ar the present Mrs. Strange?"

"K-?" Ne:vile looked slightly surprised.

"Oh, lISuppose so. At least--I've never talked much oout it-with her ."

"I tj ytou'll f'md," d Battle, "that she's ' oder a misapprehension. She thinks

that t momey on Lady ?ressilian's death

come I0 you :and your present wife. At least,

that's hat sllae gave me t understand this

morni. Thaat's why I cae along to f'md

out hee the poosifion really lay."

"H,Iv extr.aordinary," sid Nevile. "Still, I SUl:O-se it:might have h. appened quite

easily.;. $he said once or vxce now that I

thlnl-about i'iit-'We come into that money

when Caxi!la dies,' but I suppose I assumed

that she was just associating herself with me

in my shre of it."

"It's extraordinary," said Battle, "the amount o:f misunderstandings there are even

between vwo people who discuss a thing quite

often both of them assuming different

things and neither of them discovering the

discrepancy."

"I suppose so," said Nevile, not sounding very iaterested. "It doesn't matter much in this case, anyway. It's not as though we're

short of money at all. I'm very glad for

Audrey. She has been very hard up and this

will make a big difference to her."

Battle said bluntly:

"But, surely, sir, at the time of the di-vorce, she was entitled to an allowance from

you?"

Nevile fluslxed. He said in a constrained

voice:

"There' is such a thing as as pride, Su-perintendent. Audrey has always persistently

refused to touch a penny of the allowance I

wished to make her."

"A very generous allowance," put in Mr. Trelawny. "But Mrs. Audrey Strange has

always remrnecl it and refused to accept it."

"Very interesting," said Battle and went

out before anyone could ask him to elaborate

that comment.

He went and found his nephew.

"On its face value," he said, "there's a nice monetary motive for nearly everybody

in this case. Nevile Strange and Audrey

Strange get a cool fifty thousand each. Kay

Strange thinks she's entitled to fifty thou-sand. Mary Aldin gets an income that frees

her from having to earn her living. Thomas

Royde, I'm bound to say, doesn't gain. But

we can include Hurstall and even Barrett

if we admit that she'd take the risk of finish-ing herself off to avoid suspicion. Yes, as

I say, there are no lack of money motives.

And yet, if I'm right, money doesn't enter

into this at all. If there's such a thing as a

murder for pure hate, this is it. And if no

one comes along and throws a spanner into

the works, I'm going to get the person who

did it!"

Afterwards he wondered what had put

that particular phrase into his head just then

Andrew MacWhirter had been around at

Easterhead Bay on the preceding Saturday.

XIII

Andrew MacWhirter sat on the terrace of the

Easterhead Bay Hotel and stared across the

river to the frowning height of Stark Head

opposite.

He was engaged at the moment in a care-ful

stocktaking of his thoughts and emotions.

Here, seven months ago, he had attempted

to' take his own life. Chance, nothing but

chance, had intervened. Was he, he won-dered,

grateful to that chance?

He decided, soberly, that he was not. True,

he felt no present disposition to take his life. That phase was over for good. He was will-ing

to address himself now to the task of

living, not with enthusiasm nor even with

pleasure, but in a methodical day-after-day

spirit. You could not, that he admitted, take

your own life in cold blood. There had to be

some extra fillip of despair, of grief, of des-perafion or of passion. You could not com-mit

suicide merely because you felt that life

was a dreary round of tminteresfing happen-ings.

He was now, he supposed, to be consid-ered

quite a fortunate man. Fate, after hav-ing

frowned, had smiled instead. But he was

in no mood to smile huek

humor was grimly tickled when he thought

of the interview to which he had been sum-moned by that rich and eccentric peer Lord

Comelly.

"You're MacWhirter? You were with

Herbert Clay? Clay got his driving license

endorsed, all because you wouldn't say he

was going at twenty miles an hour. Livid he

was! Told us about it one night at the Savoy.

'Damned pig-headed Scot!' he said. I thought

to myself that's the kind of chap I want!

Man who can't be bribed to tell lies. You

won't have to tell lies for me. I don't do my

business that way. I go about the world look-ing for honest men and there are damned

few of them."

The little peer had cackled with laughter,

his shrewd monkey-like face wrinkled up

with mirth. MacWhirter had stood stolidly,

not amused.

But he had got the job. A good job. His

future now was assured. In a week's time he

was to leave England for South America.

He hardly knew what it was that had made

him choose to spend his few last days of

leisure where he now was. Yet something

had drawn him there. Perhaps the wish to

test himself to see if there remained in his

heart any of the old despair.

Mona? How little he cared now. She was

married to the other man. He had passed her

in the street one day without feeling any

emotion. He could remember his grief and

bitterness when she left him, but they were

past now and gone.

He was recalled from these thoughts by an

impact of wet dog and the frenzied appeal of

a newly made friend, Miss Diana Brinton,

aged thirteen.

"Oh, come away, Don. Come away. Isn't

it awful? He's rolled on some fish or some-thing down on the beach. You can smell him

yards away. The fish was awfully dead, you

know."

MacWhirter's nose confirmed this assump-tion.

"In a sort of crevice on the rocks," said Miss Brinton. "I took him into the sea and tried to wash it off, but it doesn't seem to

have done much good."

MacWhirt.er agreed..Don, .a wre-haired

terrier of armable and loving disposition, was

looking hurt by the tendency of his friends

to keep him firmly at arm's length.

"Sea water's no good," said MacWhirter.

"Hot water and soap's the only thing."

"I know. But that's not so jolly easy in a

In the end MacWhirter and Diana surreptitiously entered by the side door with

Don on a lead, and smuggling him up to

MacWhirter's bathroom, a thorough cleansing

took place and both MacWhirter and

Diana got very wet. Don was very sad when

it was all over. That disgusting smell of soap

again just when he had found a really nice

perfume such as any other dog would envy.

Oh, well, it was always the same with humans

they had no decent sense of smell.

The little incident had left MacWhirter

in a more cheerful mood. He took the bus

into Saltington, where he had left a suit'to be cleaned. The girl in charge of the 24Hour

Cleaners looked at him vacantly.

"MacWhirter, did you say? I'm afraid it

isn't ready yet."

"It should be." He had been promised

that suit the day before and even that would

have been 48 and not 24 hours. A woman

might have said all this. MacWhirter merely

scowled.

"There's not been time yet," said the girl, smiling indifferently.

"Nonsense."

The girl stopped smiling. She snapped.

"Then I'll take it away as it is," said MacWhirter.

"Nothing's been done to it," the girl warned him.

"I'll take it away."

"I daresay we might get it done by tomorrow as a special favor."

"I'm not in the habit of asking for special favors. Just give me the suit, please."

Giving him a bad-tempered look, the girl

went into a back room. She returned with

a clumsily done up parcel which she pushed

across the counter.

MacWhirter took it and went out.

He felt, quite ridiculously, as though he

had won a victory. Actually it merely meant

that he would have to have the suit cleaned

dsewhere!

He threw the parcel on his bed when he

returned to the hotel and looked at it with

annoyance. Perhaps he could get it sponged

and pressed in the hotel. It was not really too bad--perhaps it didn't actually need cleaning?

He undid the parcd and gave vent to an

expression of annoyance. Really, the 24Hour

Cleaners were too inefficient for words. This

wa.n't hi. .llit It vaa.en't oven tho .nme cnlnrl

It had been a dark blue suit he had left with

them. Impertinent, inefficient muddlers.

He glanced irritably at the label. It had

the name MacWhirter all right. Another

MacWhirter? Or some stupid interchange of

labels.

Staring down vexedly at the crumpled

heap, he suddenly sniffed.

Surely he knew that smell particularly

unpleasant smell . . . connected somehow

with a dog. Yes, that was it. Diana and her

dog. Absolutely and literally stinking fish!

He bent down and examined the suit.

There it was, a discolored patch on the shoulder of the coat. On the shoulder

Now that, thought MacWhirter, is really

very curious ....

Anyway, next day, he would have a few

grim words with the girl at the 24Hour

Cleaners. Gross mismanagement!

XIV

After dinner, he strolled out of the hotel and

down the road to the ferry. It was a clear

night, but cold, with a sharp foretaste of

winter. Summer was over.

Saltcreek side. It was the second time that

he was revisiting Stark Head. The place had

a fascination for him. He walked slowly up

the hill, passing the Balmoral Court Hotel

and then a big house set on the point of a

cliff. Gull's Point he read the name on the

painted door. Of course, that was where the

old lady had been murdered. There had been

a lot of talk in the hotel about it, his cham-bermaid had insisted on telling him all about

it and the newspapers had given it a promi-nence which had annoyed MacWhirter, who

preferred to read of world-wide affairs and

who was not interested in crime.

He went on, down hill again to skirt a

small beach and some old-fashioned fishing

cottages that had been modernized. Then up

again till the road ended and petered out into

the track that led up on Stark Head.

It was grim and forbidding on Stark Head.

MacWhirter stood on the cliff edge looking

down to the sea. So he had stood on that

other night. He tried to recapture some of

the feeling he had then the desperation, an-ger, weariness the longing to be out of it

all. But there was nothing to recapture. All

that had gone. There was instead a cold

anger. Caught on that tree, rescued by coast

hospital, a series of indignities and affronts. Why couldn't he have been let alone? He

would rather, a thousand times rather, be

out of it all. He still felt that. The only thing he had lost was the necessary impetus.

How it had hurt him then to think of

Mona! He could think of her quite calmly

now. She had always been rather a fool.

Easily taken by anyone who flattered her or

played up to her idea of herself. Very pretty.

Yes, very pretty but no mind. Not the kind

of woman he had once dreamed about.

But that was beauty, of course Some

vague fancied picture of a woman flying

through the night with white draperies flying

out behind her... Something like the fig-urehead of a ship only not so bold.., not

nearly so solid...

And then, with dramatic suddenness, the

incredible happened! Out of the night came

a flying figure. One minute she was not

there, the next minute she was a white

figure running nmning to the cliff's edge.

A figure, beautiful and desperate, driven

to destruction by pursuing Furies! Run-ning

with a terrible desperation .... He

knew that desperation. He knew what it

He came with a rash out of the shadows

and caught her just as she was about to go

over the edge!

He said fiercely:

"No, you don't... ."

It was just like holding a bird. She strug-gled struggled silently, and then, again like

a bird, was suddenly dead still.

He said urgently:

"Don't throw yourself over! Nothing's

worth it. Nothing.t Even if you are desper-ately unhappy"

She made a sound. It was, perhaps, a

far-off ghost of a laugh.

He said sharply:

"You're not unhappy? What is it then?"

She answered him at once with the low

softly-breathed word:

"Afraid."

"Afraid?" He was so astonished he let her go, standing back a pace to see her better.

He realized then the truth of her words. It

was fear that had lent that urgency to her

footsteps. It was fear that made her small

white intelligent face blank and stupid. Fear

that dilated those wide-apart eyes.

He said incredulously:

"What are you afraid of?."

She replied so low that he hardly heard it.

voice, trying to remember all that he

heard. Rumor had been incorporated

fact.

"They detained your husband

Yes, she had said just that. He stared and

stared. He looked from her to the cliff edge.

"So that's why?"

"Yes. A quick death instead of "She

closed her eyes and shivered. She went on

shivering.

MacWhirter was piecing things together

logically in his mind.

He said at last:

"Lady Tressilian? The old lady who was

murdered." Then, accusingly: "You'll be

Mrs. Strange the fzrst Mrs. Strange."

Still shivering, she nodded her head.

MacWhirter went on in his slow careful

had

with

that's

right, isn't it? A lot of evidence against him

and then they found that that evidence had

been faked by someone... ."

He stopped and looked at her. She wasn't

shivering any longer. She was just standing

looking at him like a docile child. He found

her attitude unendurably affecting.

His voice went on:

"I see .... Yes, I see how it was .... He

left you for another woman, didn't he? And

off. He said, "I understand. My wife left me for another man .... "

She flung out her arms. She began stam-mering

wildly, hopelessly:

"It's n-n-not it's n-n-not l-like that.

N-not at all "He cut her short. His voice

was stem and commanding.

"Go home! You needn't be afraid any

longer. D'you hear? I'll see that you're not

hanged!"

XV

Mary Aldin was lying on the drawing-room

sofa. Her head ached and her whole body

felt worn out.

The inquest had taken place the day be-fore,

and after formal evidence of identifica-tion,

had been adjourned for a week.

Lady Tressilian's funeral was to take place

on the morrow. Audrey and Kay had gone

into Saltington in the car to get some black

clothes. Ted Latimer had gone with them.

Nevile and Thomas Royde had gone for a

walk, so except for the servants, Mary was

alone in the house.

Superintendent Battle and Inspector Leach

had been absent today, and that, too, was

a relief. It seemed to Mary that with their

absence a shadow had lifted. They had been

polite, quite pleasant, in fact, but the ceaseless questions, that quiet deliberate probing

and sifting of every fact was the sort of

thing that wore hardly on the nerves. By

now that wooden-faced Superintendent must

have learned of every incident, every word,

every gesture, even, of the past ten days.

Now, with their going, there was peace.

Mary let herself relax. She would forget

everything everything. Just lie back and

rest.

"Excuse me, Madam "

It was Hurstall in the doorway, looking

apologetic.

"Yes, Hurstall?"

"A gentleman wishes to see you. I have

put him in the study."

Mary looked at him in astoaishment and

some annoyance.

"Who is it?"

"He gave his name as Mr. MacWhirter,

iss.'

"I've never heard of him."

"No, iss.'

"He must be a reporter. You shouldn't

have let him in, Hurstall."

Hurstall coughed.

"I don't think he is a reporter, Miss. I

think he is a friend of Miss Audrey's."

"Oh, that's different."

Smoothing her hair, Mary went wearily

across the hall and into the small study. She

was, somehow, a little surprised as the tall

man standing by the window turned. He did

not look in the least like a friend of Audrey's. However she said pleasantly:

"I'm sorry Mrs. Strange is out. You

wanted to see her?"

He looked at her in a thoughtful considering

way.

"You'll be Miss Aldin?" he said.

"Yes."

"I daresay you can help me just as well. I

want to find some rope."

"Rope?" said Mary in lively amazement.

"Yes, rope. Where would you be likely to

keep a piece of rope?"

Afterwards Mary considered that she

had been half-hypnotized. If this strange

man had volunteered any explanation she

might have resisted. But Andrew MacWhirter,

unable to think of a plausible

explanation, decided, very wisely, to do without one. He just stated quite simply what he

wanted. She found herself, semi-dazed, leading

MacWhirter in search of rope.

"What kind of rope?" she had asked.

And he had replied:

"Any rope will do."

She said doubtfully:

"Perhaps in the potting shed "

"Shall we go there?"

She led the way. There was twine and an

odd bit of cord, but MacWhirter shook his

head.

He wanted rope a good-sized coil of rope.

"There's the box room," said Mary hesitatingly.

"Ay, that might be the place."

They went indoors and upstairs. Mary

threw open the box-room door. MacWhirter

stood in the doorway looking in. He gave a

curious sigh of contentment.

"There it is," he said.

There was a big coil of rope lying on a

chest just inside the door in company with

old fishing tackle and some moth-eaten cushions. He laid a hand on her arm and impelled Mary gently forward until they stood

looking down on the rope. He touched it

and said:

"I'd like you to charge your memory with

this, Miss Aldin. You'll notice that everything round about is covered with dust. There's no dust on this role. Just feel it."

She said:

"It feels slightly damp," in a surprised tone.

"Just so."

He turned to go out again.

"But the rope? I thought you wanted it?" said Mary in surprise.

MacWhirter smiled.

"I just wanted to know it was there. That's all. Perhaps you wouldn,t mind locking this

door, Miss Aldin and taking the key out?

Yes. I'd be obliged if you'd hand the key to

Superintendent Battle or Inspector Leach. It

would be best in their keeping."

As they went downstairs, Mary made an

effort to rally herself.

She protested as they reached the main

hall:

"But really, I don't understand "

"There's no need for you to understand." He took her hand and shook it heartily. "I'm

very much obliged to you for your cooperation." Whereupon he went straight out of the

front door.

Nevile and Thomas came in presently

and the car arrived back shortly afterwards

and Mary Aldin found herself envying

la,, and Ta.cl fnr ha.ina hle tn lnnk n11ite

cheerful. They were laughing and joking to-gether. After all, why not? she thought.

Camilla Tressilian had been nothing to Kay.

All this tragic business was very hard on a

bright young creature.

They had just finished lunch when the

police came. There was something scared in

Hurstall's voice as he announced that Super-intendent Battle and Inspector Leach were in

the drawing room.

Superintendent Battle's face was quite

genial as he greeted them.

"Hope I haven't disturbed you all," he said apologetically. "But there are one or two things I'd like to know about. This glove,

for instance, who does it belong to?"

He held it out, a small yellow chamois

leather glove.

He addressed Audrey.

"Is it yours, Mrs. Strange?"

She shook her head.

"No no, it isn't mine."

"Miss Aldin?"

"I don't think so. I have none of that

color."

"May I see?" Kay held out her hand.

"Perhaps you'd just slip it on."

"Miss Aldin?"

Mary tried in her turn.

"It's too small for you also," said Battle. He turned back to Audrey. "I think you'll

find it fits you all right. Your hand is smaller than either of the other ladies."

Audrey took it from him and slipped it on

over her right hand.

Nevile Strange said sharply:

"She's already told you, Battle, that it isn't her glove."

"Ah, well," said Battle, "perhaps she made a mistake. Or forgot."

Audrey said: "It may be mine gloves are

so alike, aren't they?"

Battle said:

"At any rate it was found outside your

window, Mrs. Strange, pushed down into

the ivy with its fellow."

There was a pause. Audrey opened her

mouth to speak, then closed it up again. Her

eyes fell before the Superintendent's steady

gaze.

Nevile sprang forward.

"Look here, Superintendent "

"Perhaps we might have a word with you,

Mr. Strange, privately?" Battle said gravely.

"Certainly, Superintendent. Come into the

He led the way and the two police officers

followed him.

As soon as the door had dosed Nevile said sharply:

"What's this ridiculous story about gloves outside my wife's window?"

Baffle said quietly:

"Mr. Strange, we've found some very curious things in this house."

Nevile frowned.

"Curious? What do you mean by curious?''

"I'll show you."

In obedience to a nod, Leach left the room

and came back holding a very strange implement. Battle said:

"This consists, as you see, sir, of a steel ball taken from a Victorian fender a heavy

steal bail. Then the ead has been sawed off

a tennis racket and te bfil has been screwed

into the handle of fie racket." He paused.

"I think there can be rt doubt that this is what was used to Laxly Tressilian."

"Horrible!" said levile with a shudder.

"But where did yo f-ad this .this fight-mare?"

"The ball had been cleaned and put back

neglected to clean the screw. We found a

trace of blood on that. In the same way the

handle and the head of the racket were joined

together again by means of adhesive surgical

piaster. It was then thrown carelessly back

into the cupboard under tl?e stairs where it

would probably have remained quite unno-ticed

amongst so many others if we hadn't

happened to be looking for something of that

kind.'

"Smart of you, Superintendent."

"Just a matter of routine."

"No fmgerprints, I suppose?"

"That racket which belongs by its weight,

I should say, to Mrs. Kay Strange, has been

handled by her and also by you and both

your prints are on it. But it also shows unmis-takable signs that someone wearing gloves han-dled

it after you two did. There was just one

other fingerprint left this time in inadvert-ence, I think. That was on the surgical strap-ping

that had been applied to bind the racket

together again. I'm not going for the mo-ment

to say whose print that was. I've got

some other points to mention first."

Battle paused, then he said:

"I want you to prepare yourself for a shock, Mr. Strange. And first I want to ask you

your own idea to have this meeting here and

that it was not actually suggested to you by

Mrs. Audrey Strange?"

"Audrey did nothing of the sort. Au-drey-''

The door opened and Thomas Royde came

in.

"Sorry to butt in," he said, "but I thought I'd like to be in on this."

Nevile turned a harassed face towards him.

"Do you mind, old fellow? This is all

rather private."

"I'm afraid I don't care about that. You

see, I heard a name outside." He paused.

"Audrey's name."

"And what the hell has Audrey's name got

to do with you?" demanded Nevile, his tem-per rising.

"Well, what has it to do with you if it

comes to that? I haven't said anything deft-nite to Audrey, but I came here meaning to

ask her to marry me, and I think she knows

it. What's more, I mean to marry her."

Superintendent Battle coughed. Nevile

turned to him with a start.

"Sorry, Superintendent. This interrup-tion

"

Battle said:

"It doesn't matter to me, Mr. Strange.

I've got one more question to ask you. That

dark blue coat you wore at dinner the night

of the murder, it's got fair hairs inside the

collar and on the shoulders. Do you know

how they got there?"

"I suppose they're my hairs."

"Oh, no, they're not yours, sir. They're

a lady's hairs, and there's a red hair on the

sleeves."

"I suppose that's my wife's Kay's. The

others, you are suggesting, are Audrey's?

Very likely they are. I caught my cuff button

in her hair one night outside on the terrace, I remember."

"In that case," murmured Inspector

Leach, "the fair hair would be on the cuff."

"What the devil are you suggesting?" cried Nevile.

"There's a trace of powder, too, inside

the coat collar," said Battle. "Primavera Naturelle No. 1 a very pleasant-scented

powder and expensive but it's no good tell-ing

me that you use it, Mr. Strange, because

I shan't believe you. And Mrs. Kay Strange

uses Orchid Sun Kiss. Mrs. Audrey Strange

does use Primavera Naturelle 1."

"What are you suggesting?" repeated

Nevile.

Battle leaned forward.

"I'm suggesting that on some occasion

Mrs. Audrey Strange wore that coat. It's the

only reasonable way the hair and the powder

could get wlaere they did. Then you've seen

that glove I produced just now? It's her glove

all fight. TI,at was the right hand, here's the left--" He drew it out of his pocket and put it down on the table. It was crumpled and

stained with rusty brown patches.

Nevile said with a note of fear in his voice:

"What's that on it?"

"Blood,/dr. Strange," said Battle fn'mly.

"And you'll note this, it's the left hand. Now Mrs. Audrey Strange is left-handed. I noted

that first ting when I saw her sitting with

her coffee cup in her fight hand and her

cigarette in her left at the breakfast table.

And the pen tray on her writing-table had

been shifted to the left-hand side. It all

fits in. The knob from her grate, the gloves

outside her window, the hair and powder on

the coat. Lady Tressilian was struck on the

fight temple but the position of the bed

made it impossible for anyone to have stood

on the oer side of it. It follows that to

strike Lady Tress'fiian a blow with the right

hand wo.uld be a very awkward thing to

do but frs the natural way to strike for a

Nevile laughed scornfully.

"Are you suggesting that Audrey Audrey

would make all these daborate preparations

and strike down an old lady whom she had

known for years in order to get her hands on

that old lady's money?"

Battle shook his head.

"I'm suggesting nothing of the sort. I'm

sorry, Mr. Strange, you've got to understand

just how things are. This crime, first, last

and all the time was directed against you.

Ever since you left her, Audrey Strange has

been brooding over the possibilities of re-venge. In the end she has become mentally

unbalanced. Perhaps she was never mentally

very strong. She thought, perhaps, of killing

you but that wasn't enough. She thought at

last of getting you hanged for murder. She

chose an evening when she knew you had

quarreled with Lady Tressilian. She took the

coat from your bedroom and wore it when

she struck the old lady down so that it should

be bloodstained. She put your niblick on the

floor knowing we would find your finger-prints

on it and smeared blood and hair on

the head of the club. It was she who instilled

into your mind the idea of coming here

when she was here. And the thing that saved

vnl'n.the nne thine .he cnddn't nllnt

"I'm suggesting that on some occasion

Mrs. Audrey Strange wore that coat. It's the

only reasonable way the hair and the powder

could get where they did. Then you've seen

that glove I produced just now? It's her glove

all fight. That was the fight hand, here's the

left "He drew it out of his pocket and put it down on the table. It was crtmapled and

stained with rusty brown patches.

Nevile said with a note of fear in his voice:

"What's that on it?"

"Blood, Mr. Strange," said Battle firmly.

"And you'll note this, it's the lehand. Now Mrs. Audrey Strange is left-handed. I noted

that first thing when I saw her sitting with

her coffee cup in her fight hand and her

cigarette in her left at the breakfast table.

And the pen tray on her writing-table had

been shifted to the left-hand side. It all

fits in. The knob from her grate, the gloves

outside her window, the hair and powder on

the coat. Lady Tressilian was struck on the

fight temple but the position of the bed

made it impossible for anyone to have stood

on the other side of it. It follows that to

strike Lady Tressilian a blow with the fight

hand would be a very awkward thing to

do--but it's the natural way to strike for a

left-handed person. "

Nevile laughed scornfully.

"Are you suggesting that Audrey Audrey

would make all these elaborate preparations

I and strike down an old lady whom she had

known for years in order to get her hands on

that old lady's money?"

Baffle shook his head.

"I'm suggesting nothing of the sort. I'm

sorry, Mr. Strange, you've got to understand

just how things are. This crime, first, last

and all the time was directed against you.

Ever since you left her, Audrey Strange has

been brooding over the possibilities of revenge. In the end she has become mentally

unbalanced. Perhaps she was never mentally

very strong. She thought, perhaps, of killing

you but that wasn't enough. She thought at

last of getting you hanged for murder. She

chose an evening when she knew you had

quarreled with Lady Tressilian. She took the

coat from your bedroom and wore it when

she struck the old lady down so that it should

be bloodstained. She put your niblick on the

floor knowing we would find your fingerprints

on it and smeared blood and hair on

the head of the club. It was she who instilled

into your mind the idea of coming here

when she was here. And the thing that saved

xrnn wac tho nne thlnehe erllcin't Cnllnt

on -the fact that Lady Tressilian rang her

bell for Barrett and that Barrett saw you

leave the house."

Ncvile had buried his face in his hands.

He said now:

"It's not tree. It's not true! Audrey's never borne a grudge against me. You've got the

whole thing wrong. She's the straightest, truest creature without one thought of evil in

her heart."

Battle sighed.

"It's not my business to argue with you,

Mr. Strange. I only wanted to prepare you.

I shall caution Mrs. Strange and ask her to

accomPanY me. I've got the warrant. You'd

better see about getting a solicitor for her."

"It's preposterous. Absolutely preposterous.

"Iove turns to hate more easily than you

think, Mr. Strange."

"I tell you it's all wrong--preposterous." Thomas Royde broke in. His voice was

quiet and pleasant.

"Do stop repeating that it's preposterous, Nevile. Pull yourself together. Don't you see

that the only thing that can help Audrey

now is for you to give up all your ideas of

chivalry and come out with the truth?"

explained Thomas briefly. He went on:

"Don't you see, Superintendent, that knocks your motive out! Audrey has no cause to

"I mean the truth about Audrey anctl

Adrian." Royde turned to the police officers,

"You see, Superintendent, you've got th%

facts wrong. Nevile didn't leave Audrey. She

left him. She ran away with my brothe

Adrian. Then Adrian was killed in a ca&,

accident. Nevile behaved with the utmost:

chivalry to Audrey. He arranged that she

should divorce him and that he would take

the blame."

"Didn't want her name dragged through,

the mud," muttered Nevile sulkily. "Didn't: know anyone knew."

"Adrian wrote out to me, just before,"

hate Nevile. On the contrary, she has every

reason to be grateful to him. He's tried to

get her to accept an allowance which she

wouldn't do. Naturally when he wanted her

to come and meet Kay she didn't feel she

could refuse."

"You see," Nevile put in eagerly. "That cuts out her motive. Thomas is right."

Battle's wooden face was immovable.

"Motive's only one thing," he said. "I may have been wrong about that. But facts

are another. All the facts show that she's

Nevile said meaningly:

"All the facts showed that I was guilty

two days ago!"

Battle seemed a little taken aback.

"That's true enough. But look here, Mr.

Strange, at what you're asking me to believe.

You're asking me to believe that there's

someone who hates both of you someone

who, if the plot against you failed, had laid

a second trail to lead to Audrey Strange.

Now can you think of anyone, Mr. Strange,

who hates both you and your former wife?"

Nevile's head had dropped into his hands

again.

"When you say it like that, you make it all sound fantastic!"

"Because it/s fantastic. I've got to go by the facts. If Mrs. Strange has any explanation

to offer "

"Did I have any explanation?" asked

Nevile.

"It's no good, Mr. Strange. I've got to do my duty."

Battle got up abruptly. He and Leach left

the room first. Nevile and Royde came close

behind them.

They went on across the hall into the

drawing room. There they stopped.

Audrey Strange got up. She walked forward

to meet them. She looked straight at

Battle, her lips parted in what was very nearly a smile. She said very softly:

"You want me, don't you?"

Battle became very official.

"Mrs. Strange, I have a warrant here for

your arrest on the charge of murdering

Camilla Tressilian on Monday last, September

twelfth. I must caution you that anything

you say will be written down and may be

used in evidence at your trial."

Audrey gave a sigh. Her small clear-cut

face was peaceful and pure as a cameo.

"It's almost a relief. I'm glad it's over!" Nevile sprang forward.

"Audrey don't say

anything

don't

speak at all."

She smiled at him.

"But why not, Nevile? It's all tree and

I'm so tired."

Leach drew a deep breath. Well, that was

that. Mad as a hatter, of course, but it would

save a lot of worry! He wondered what had

happened to his uncle. The old boy was

looking as though he had seen a ghost. Star

ing at the demented creature as though he

couldn't believe his eyes. Oh, well, it had

been an interesting case, Leach 0ught com-fortably.

And then, an almost grotesque anticlimax,

Hurstall opened the drawing room door and

announced:

"Mr. MacXXhirter."

MacXX'hirter strode in purposefully. He

went straight up to Battle.

"Are you the police officer in charge of

the Tressilian case?" he asked.

"Then I have an important statement to

make. I am sorry not to have cme forward

before, but the importance of something I

happened to see on the night of Yonday last

has only just dawned on me." He gave a

quick glance round the room. "III can speak to you somewhere?"

Battle turned to Leach.

"Will you stay here with Mrs. Strange?" Leach said officially:

"Yes, six."

Then he leaned forward and whispered

something into the other's ear.

Battle turned to MacXXbirter.

"Come this way."

I-Ie led the wv intn the lihrar

"Now, then, what's all this? My colleague

tells me that he's seen you before last

winter?"

"Quite right," said MacWhirter. "Attempted suicide. That's part of my story."

"Go on, Mr. MacWhirter."

"Last January I attempted to kill myself

by throwing myself off Stark Head. This

year, the fancy took me to revisit the spot.

I walked up there on Monday night. I stood

there for some time. I looked down at the

sea and across to Easterhead Bay and I then

looked to my left. That is to say I looked

across towards this house. I could see it quite plainly in the moonlight."

"Yes."

"Until today I had not realized that that

was the night when a murder was committed." He leant forward.

"I'll tell you what I saw."

XVI

It was really only about five minutes before

Baffle returned to the drawing room, but to

those there it seemed much longer.

Kay had suddenly lost control of herself.

.qhe had cried out tn Anclrev-

"I knew k was you. I always knew it was

you. I knew you were up to something

Mary Aldin said quickly:

"Please, Kay."

Nevile said sharply:

"Shut up, Kay, for God's sake."

Ted Latimer came over to Kay,

begun to cry.

who had

"Get a grip on yourself," he said kindly. He said to Nevile angrily:

"You don't seem to realize that Kay has

been under a lot of strain! Why don't you

look after her a bit, Strange?"

"I'm all right," said Kay.

"For two pins," said Ted, "I'd take you away from the lot of them!"

Inspector Leach cleared his throat. A lot

of injudicious things were said at times like

these, as he well knew. The unfortunate part

was that they were usually remembered most

inconveniently afterwards.

Battle came back into the room. His face

was expressionless.

He said: "Will you put one or two things

together, Mrs. Strange? I'm afraid Inspector

Leach must come upstairs with you."

Mary Aldin said:

"T'II rrme tm"

When the two women had left the room

with the Inspector, Nevile said anxiously:

"Well, what did that chap want?"

Battle said slowly:

"Mr. MacWbirter tells a very odd story."

"Does it help Audrey? Are you still deter-mined to arrest her?"

"I've told you, Mr. Strange. I've got to do my duty."

Nevile turned away, the eagerness dying

out of his face.

He said:

"I'd better tdephone Trelawny, I sup-po

se."

"There's no immediate hurry for that, Mr.

Strange. There's a certain experiment I want

to make first as a result of Mr. MacWhirter's

statement. I'll just see that Mrs. Strange gets off first."

Audrey was coming down the stairs, In-spector

Leach beside her. Her face still had

that remote, detached composure.

Nevile came towards her, his hands out-stretched.

"Audrey "

Her colorless glance swept over him. She

said:

"It's all fight, Nevile. I don't mind. I

don't mind anvthinm"

Thomas Royde stood by the front door,

almost as though he would bar the way out.

A very faint smile came to her lips.

"'True Thomas,'" she murmured.

He mumbled:

"If there's anything I can do "

"No one can do anything," said Audrey. She went out with her head high. A police

car was waiting outside with Sergeant Jones

in it. Audrey and Leach got in.

Ted Latimer murmured appreciatively:

"Lovely exit!"

Nevile turned on him furiously. Superin-tendent Battle dexterously interposed his bulk

and raised a soothing voice:

"As I said, I've got an experiment to

make. Mr. MacWhirter is waiting down at

the ferry. We're to join him there in ten

minutes' time. We shall be going out in a

motor launch, so the ladies had better wrap

up warmly. In ten minutes, please."

He might have been a stage manager, or-dering

a company on to the stage. He took

no notice at all of their puzzled faces.

Zero Hour

I

It was chilly on the water and Kay hugged

the little fur jacket she was wearing closer

round her.

The launch chugged down the river below

Gull's Point, and then swung round into the

little bay that divided Gull's Point from the

frowning mass of Stark Head.

Once or twice, a question began to be

asked, but each time Superintendent Battle

held up a large hand rather like a cardboard

ham, intimating that the time had not come

yet. So the silence was unbroken save for

the rushing of the water past them. Kay and

Ted stood together looking down into the

water. Nevile was slumped down, his legs

stuck out. Mary Aldin and Thomas Royde

sat up in the bow. And one and all glanced

from time to time curiously at the tall aloof

fiorf MacWhirter hv the stem. He looked

at none of them, but stood with his back

turned and his shoulders hunched up.

Not until they were under the frowning

shadow of Stark Head, did Battle throttle

down the engine and begin to speak his piece.

He spoke without self-consciousness and

in a tone that was more reflective than any-thing else.

"This has been a very odd case one of

the oddest I've ever known, and I'd like to

say something on the subject of murder gen-erally. What I'm going to say is not origi-nal

actually I overheard young Mr. Daniels,

the K.C., say something of the kind, and

I wouldn't be surprised if he'd got it from

someone else he's a trick of doing that!

"It's this! When you read the account of

a murder or say, a fiction story based on

murder, you usually begin with the murder

itself. That's all wrong. The murder begins a

long time beforehand. A murder is the culmi-nation of a lot of different circttmstances, all

converging at a given moment at a given

point. People are brought into it from differ-ent parts of the globe and for unforeseen

reasons. Mr. Royde is here from Malaya.

Mr. MacWhirter is here because he wanted

mit suicide. The murder itself is the end of

the story. It's Zero Hour."

He paused.

"It's Zero Hour now."

Five faces were turned to him

only five,

for MacWhirter did not turn his head. Five

puzzled faces.

Mary Aldin said:

"You mean that Lady Tressilian's death

was the culmination of a long train of cir-cumstances?''

"No, Miss Aldin, not Lady Tressilian's

death. Lady Tressilian's death was only inci-dental to the main object of the murderer.

The murder I am talking of is the murder of

Audrey Strange."

He listened to the sharp indrawing of

breath. He wondered if, suddenly, someone

was afraid ....

"This crime was planned quite a long time

ago--probably as early as last winter. It was

planned down to the smallest detail. It had

one object, and one object only: that Audrey

Strange should be hanged by the neck till

she was dead ....

"It was very cunningly planned by some-one who thought himself very clever. Mur-derers

are usually vain. There was fzrst the

e 1 l'rt,lL',, ,-1 ', .,,.., ,..,,.., -: ,., J ......... =' -1 ....

Nevile Strange which we were meant to see

through. But having been presented by one

lot of faked evidence, it was not considered

likely that we should consider a second edition of the same thing. And yet, if you come to

look at it, all the evidence against Audrey

Strange could be faked. The weapon taken

from her fireplace, her gloves the left hand

glove dipped in blood hidden in the ivy

outside her window. The powder she uses

dusted on the inside of a coat collar, and

a few hairs placed there too. Her own fingerprint, occurring quite naturally on a roll of

adhesive plaster taken from her room. Even

the left-handed nature of the blow.

"And there was the final damning evidence

of Mrs. Strange herself I don't believe

there's one of you (except the one who knows) who can credit her innocence after the way she behaved when we took her into

custody. Practically admitted her guilt, didn't she? I mightn't have believed in her being

innocent myself if it hadn't been for a private experience of my own .... Struck me

fight between the eyes it did, when I saw

and heard her because, you see, I'd known

another girl who did just that very same

thing, who admitted guilt when she wasn't

guilty and Audrey Strange was looking at

me with that other girl's eyes ....

"I'd got to do my duty. I knew that. We

police officers have to act on evidence not

on what we feel and think. But I can tell you

that at that minute I prayed for a miracle

because I didn't see that anything but a miracle was going to help that poor lady.

"Well, I got my miracle. Got it right away!

"Mr. MacWhirter, here, turned up with

his story."

He paused.

"Mr. MacWhirter, will you repeat what

you told me up at the house?"

MacWhirter turned. He spoke in short

sharp sentences that carried conviction just

because of their conciseness.

He told of his rescue from the cliff the

preceding January and of his wish to revisit

the scene. He went on.

"I went up there on Monday night. I stood

there lost in my own thoughts. It must have

been, I suppose, in the neighborhood of

eleven o'clock. I looked across at that house

on the point Gull's Point as I know it now

to be."

He paused and then went on.

"There was a rope hanging from a win

dow of that house into the sea. I saw a man

climbing up that rope .... "

Just a moment elapsed before they took it

in. Mary Aldin cried out:

"Then it was an outsider after all? It was nothing to do with any of us. It was an

ordinary burglar!"

"Not quite so fast," said Battle. "It was someone who came from the other side

of the river, yes, since he swam across. But

someone in the house had to have the rope

ready for him, therefore someone inside must

have been concerned."

He went on slowly.

"And we know of someone who was on

the other side of the river that night someone

who wasn't seen between ten thirty and

a quarter past eleven and who might have

been swimming over and back. Someone who

might have a friend on this side of the water." He added: "Eh, Mr. Latimer?"

Ted took a step backward. He cried out

shrilly:

"But I can't swim! Everybody knows I

can't swim. Kay, tell them I can't swim."

"Of course Ted can't swim!" Kay cried.

"Is that so?" asked Battle, pleasantly. He moved alone the boat as Ted moved in

the other direction. There was some clumsy

movement and a splash.

"Dear me," said Superintendent Battle in deep concern. "Mr. Latimer's gone over-board."

His hand closed like a vise on Nevile's

arm as the latter was preparing to jump in

after him.

"No, no, Mr. Strange. No need for you

I

to get yourself wet. There are two of my

men handy fishing in the dinghy there."

He peered over the side of the boat. "It's quite true," he said with interest. "He can't swim. It's all right. They've got him. I'll

apologize presently, but really there's only

one way to make quite sure that a person

can't swim and that's to throw them in and

watch. You see, Mr. Strange, I like to be

thorough. I had to eliminate Mr. Latimer

first. Mr. Royde, here, has got a groggy

arm; he couldn't do any rope climbing."

Battle's voice took on a lurring quality.

"So that brings us to you, doesn't it,

Mr. Strange? A good athlete, a mountain

climber, a swimmer and all that. You went

over on the 10.30 ferry all right but no one

can swear to seeing you at the Easterhead

l-Intel until a auarter tast eleven in stfite of

our story of having been looking for Mr.

Latimer then."

Nevile jerked his arm away. He threw

back his head and laughed.

"You suggest that I swam across the river

and climbed up a rope "

"Which you had left ready hanging from

your window," said Baffle.

"Killed Lady Tressilian and swam back

again? Why should I do such a fantastic

thing? And who laid all those clues against

me? I suppose I laid them against rnyself, t"

"Exactly," said Battle. "And not half a bad idea either."

"And why should I want to kill Camilla

Tressilian?"

"You didn't," said Battle. "But you did want to hang the woman who left you for

another man. You're a bit unhinged men-tally,

you know. Have been ever since you

were a child I've looked up that old bow

and arrow case by the way. Anyone who

does you an injury has to be punished and

death doesn't seem to you an excessive pen-alty for them to pay. Death by itself wasn't

enough for Audreymyour Audrey vhom you

loved oh, yes, you loved her all right be-fore

your love turned to hate. You had to

thinlr nf enme enoeial kind of death, some

long-drawn-out specialized death. And when

you'd thought of it, the fact that it entailed

the killing of a woman who had been some-thing

like a mother to you didn't worry you

in the least .... "

Nevile said and his voice was quite gentle:

"All lies! All lies! And I'm not mad. I'm

not mad."

Battle said contemptuously:

"Flicked you on the raw, didn't she, when

she went off and left you for another man?

Hurt your vanity! To think she should walk

out on you. You salved your pride by pre-tending to the world at large that you'd left

her and you married another girl who was in

love with you just to bolster up that belief.

But all the time you planned what you'd do

to Audrey. You couldn't think of anything

worse than this to get her hanged. A fine

idea pity you hadn't the brains to carry it

out better!"

Nevile's tweed-coated shoulders moved, a

queer, wriggling movement.

Battle went on:

"Childish all that niblick stuff! Those

crude trails pointing to you! Audrey must

have known what you were after! She must

have laughed up her sleeve! Thinking I

didn't suspect you! You murderers are funny

little fellows! So puffed up. Always thinking

you've been clever and resourceful and really

being quite pitifully childish .... "

It was a strange queer scream that came

from Nevile.

"It was a clever idea it was! You'd never

have guessed. Never! Not if it hadn't been

for this interfering iackanapes, this pompous

Scotch fool. I'd thought out every detail

every detail! I can't help 'what went wrong.

How was I to know Royde knew the truth

about Audrey and Adrian? Audrey and

Adrian .... Curse Audrey she shall hang

you've got to hang her I want her to die

afraid to die to die I

hate her. I tell

you

I want her to die "

The

high

whinnying voice died away. Nevile slumped

down and began to cry qui-etly.

"Oh,

God,"

said Mary Aldin.

She was

white to the lips.

Battle said

gently, in a low voice:

"I'm sorry,

but I had to push him over the edge

.... There was precious little evi-dence, you

know."

Nevile was

still whimpering. His voice was like a

child's.

"I want

her to be hanged. I do want her to

Mary Aldin shuddered

Thomas Royde.

He took her hands in his.

and turned to

II

"I was always frightened," said Audrey.

They were sitting on the terrace. Audrey

sat close to Superintendent Battle. Battle had

resumed his holiday and was at Gull's Point

as a friend.

"Always frightened all the time," said Audrey.

Battle said, nodding his head:

"I knew you were dead scared first mo-ment I saw you. And you'd got that color-less,

reserved way people have who are

holding some very strong emotion in check.

It might have been love or hate, but actually

it was fear, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"I began to be afraid of Nevile soon after we were married. But the awful thing is, you

see, that I didn't know why. I began to think

that I was mad."

"It wasn't you," said Battle.

him so particularly sane and normal always

delightfully good-tempered and pleasant."

"Interesting," said Battle. "He played the part of the good sportsman, you know.

That's why he could keep his temper so

well at tennis. His role as a good sportsman

was more important to him than winning

matches. But it put a strain upon him, of

course, playing a part always does. He got

worse underneath."

"Underneath," whispered Audrey with

a shudder* "Always underneath. Nothing you could get hold of. Just sometimes a word

or a look and then I'd fancy I'd imagined

it .... Something queer. And then, as I say,

I thought I must be queer. And I went on

getting more and more afraid the kind of

unreasoning fear, you know, that makes you sickI

"I told myself I was going mad but I

couldn't help it. I felt I'd do anything in the world to get away! And then Adrian came

and told me he loved me and I thought it

would be wonderful to go away with him

and be safe.. "

She stopped.

"You know what happened? I

to meet Adrian he never came

went off

he was

killed .... I felt as though Nevile had

managed it somehow "

"Perhaps he did," said Battle.

Audrey turned a startled face to him.

"Oh, do you think so?"

"We'll never know now. Motor accidents

can be arranged. Don't brood on it, though,

Mrs. Strange. As likely as not, it just hap-pened naturally."

"I I was all broken up. I went back to

the Rectory Adrian's home. We were going

to have written to his mother, but as she

didn't know about it, I thought I wouldn't

tell her and give her pain. And Nevile came

almost at once. He was very nice and

kind and all the time I talked to him I was

quite sick with fear! He said no one need

know about Adrian, that I could divorce him

on evidence he would send me and that he

was going to remarry afterwards. I felt so

thankful. I knew he had thought Kay attrac-tive and I hoped that everything would turn

out right and that I should get over this

queer obsession of mine. I still thought it

must be me.

"But I couldn't get rid of it quite. I

never felt I'd really escaped. And then I met

Nevile in the Park one day and he explained

that he did so want me and Kay to be friends

and suggested that we should all come here

in September. I couldn't refuse, how could

I?

After all the kind things he'd done." "'Will you walk into my parlor?' said the spider to the fly," remarked Superintendent Battle.

Audrey shivered.

"Yes, just that .... "

"Very clever he was about that," said Battle. "Protested so loudly to everyone that it was his idea, that everyone at once got the

impression that it wasn't."

Audrey said:

"And then I got here and it was like a kind of nightmare. I knew something awful

was going to happen I knew Nevile meant

it to happen and that it was to happen to me. But I didn't know what it was. I think, you know, that I nearly did go off my head!

I was just paralyzed with fright like you are

in a dream when something's going to happen

and you can't move .... "

"I've always thought," said Superintendent

Battle, "that I'd like to have seen a snake fascinate a bird so that it can't fly away but

now I'm not so sure."

Audrey went on.

"Even when Lady Tressilian was killed, I

didn't realize what it meant. I was puzzled.

I didn't even suspect Nevile. I knew he didn't

care about money it was absurd to think

he'd kill her in order to inherit fifty thou-sand pounds.

"I thought over and over again about

Mr. Treves and the story he had told that

evening. Even then I didn't connect it with

Nevile. Treves had mentioned some physical

peculiarity by which he could recognize the

child of long ago. I've got a scar on my ear

but I don't think anyone else has any sign

that you'd notice."

Battle said: "Miss Aldin has a lock of

white hair. Thomas Royde has a stiff right

arm which might not have been only the

result of an earthquake. Mr. Ted Latimer

has rather an odd-shaped skull. And Nevile

Strange "

He paused.

"Surely there was no physical peculiarity

about Nevile?"

"Oh, yes, there was. His left hand little

pounds ger is shorter than his right. That's very unusual, Mrs. Strange very unusual in-deed."

"So that was it?"

"That was it."

"And Nevile hung that sign on the lift?"

"Yes. Nipped down there and back whilst

Royde and Latimer were giving the old boy

drinks. Clever and simple doubt if we could

ever prove that was murder."

Audrey shivered again.

"Now, now," said Battle. "It's all over now, my dear. Go on talking."

"You're very clever I

haven't talked

so

much for years!"

"No,

that's what's been wrong. When did it

first dawn on you what Master Nevile's game

was?"

"I

don't know exactly. It came to me all at once.

He himself had been cleared and that left

all of us. And then, suddenly, I saw him looking at me a sort of gloating look. And

I

knew.t That was when "

She stopped abruptly.

"That was when what ?"

Audrey said slowly:

"When I thought a quick way out would

be best."

Superintendent Battle shook his head.

"Never give in. That's my motto."

"Oh, you're quite right. But you don't

know what it does to you being afraid for

so long. It paralyzes you you can't think

you can't plan you just wait for something

awful to happen. And then, when it does

happen" she gave a sudden quick smile

"you'd be surprised at the relief,t No more waiting and fearing--it's come. You'll think

I'm quite demented, I suppose, if I tell you

that when you came to arrest me for murder

I didn't mind at all. Nevile had done his

worst and it was over. I felt so safe going off with Inspector Leach."

"That's partly why we did it," said Battle.

"I wanted you out of that madman's reach.

And besides, if I wanted to break him down,

I wanted to be able to count on the shock of

the reaction. He'd seen his plan come off, as

he thought so the jolt would be all the

greater."

Audrey said in a low voice:

"If he hadn't broken down, would there

have been any evidence?"

"Not too much. There was MacWhirter's

story of seeing a man climb up a rope in the

moonlight. And there was the rope itself con-fLrming his story, coiled up in the attic and

still faintly damp. It was raining that night,

you know."

He paused and stared hard at Audrey as

though he were expecting her to say some-thing.

As she merely looked interested he went

on:

"And there was the pin-stripe suit. He

stripped, of course, in the dark on that rocky

point on the Easterhead Bay side, and thrust

his suit into a niche in the rock. As it happened he put it down on a decayed bit of

fish washed up by the flood ride two days

ago. It made a stained patch on the shoulder

and it smelt. There was some talk, I

found out, about the drains being wrong in

the hotel. NeVile himself put that story about. He'd got his rain coat on over his suit, but

the smell was a pervasive one. Then he got

the wind up about that suit afterwards and at

the first opportunity he took it off to the

cleaners and, like a fool, didn't give his own

name. Took a name at random, actually one

he'd seen in the hotel register. That's how

your friend got hold of it and, having a good

head on him, he linked it up with the man

climbing up the rope. You step on decayed

fish but you don't put your shou/der down on

it unless you have taken your clothes off to bathe at night, and no one would bathe for pleasure

on a wet night in September. He fitted the

whole thing together. Very ingenious man,

Mr. MacWhirter."

"More than ingenious," said Audrey.

"M-m, well, perhaps. Like to know about

him? I can tell you something of his history."

Audrey listened attentively. Battle found

her a good listener.

She said:

"I owe a lot to him and to you."

"Don't owe very much to me," said Superintendent Battle. "If I hadn't been a fool

I'd have seen the point of that bell."

"Bell? What bell?"

"The bell in Lady Tressilian's room. Always did feel there was something wrong

about that bell. I nearly got it, too, when I

came down the stairs from the top floor and

saw one of those poles you open windows

Audrey still looked bewildered.

"That was the whole point of the bell,

see to give Nevile Strange an alibi. Lady

T. didn't remember what she had rung for

of course she didn't because she hadn't rung

at all.t Nevile rang that bell from outside

in the passage with that long pole, the wires

ran along the ceiling. So down comes Barrett

and sees Mr. Nevile Strange go downstairs

and out, and she finds Lady Tressilian

alive and well. The whole business of the

maid was fishy. What's the good of doping

her for a murder that's going to be committed

before midnight? Ten to one she won't have

pone off troterlv by then. But it fixes the

murder as an inside job, and it allows a little

time for Nevile to play his role of first suspect then Barrett speaks and Nevile is so

triumphantly cleared that no one is going to

inquire very closely as to exactly what time

he got to the hotel. We know he didn't cross

back by ferry, and no boats had been taken.

There remained the possibility of swimming.

He was a powerful swimmer, but even then

the time must have been short. Up the rope

he's left hanging into his bedroom and a

good deal of water on the floor, as we noticed

(but without seeing the point I'm sorry

to say). Then into his blue coat and trousers,

along to Lady Tressilian's room we won't

go into that wouldn't have taken more

than a couple of minutes, he'd fixed up

that steel ball beforehand then back, out

of his clothes, down the rope and back to

Easterhead."

"Suppose Kay had come in?"

"She'd been mildly doped, I'll bet. She

was yawning from dinner on, so they tell

me. Besides he'd taken care to have a quarrel

with her so that she'd lock her door and

keep out of his way."

"I'm trying to think if I noticed the ball was gone from the fender. I don't think I

did. When did he tut it back?"

"Next morning when all the hullabaloo

arose. Once he got back in Ted Latimer's

car, he had all night to clear up his traces

and fix things, mend the tennis racket, etc.

By the way, he hit the old lady backhanded, you know. That's why the crime appeared to be left handed. Strange's backhand was

always his strong point, remember!"

"Don't don't" Audrey put

up her

hands. "I can't bear any more."

He smiled at her.

"All the same it's done you good to talk it all out. Mrs. Strange, may I be impertinent

and give you some advice?"

"Yes, please."

"You lived for eight years with a criminal lunatic that's enough to snap any woman's

nerves. But you've got to snap out of it now,

Mrs. Strange. You don't need to be afraid

any more and you've got to make yourself

realize that."

Audrey smiled at him. The frozen look

had gone from her face; it was a sweet,

rather timid, but confiding face, with the

wide-apart eyes full of gratitude.

"What's the best way to set about that, I

wonder?"

Superintendent Battle considered.

"Think of the most difficult thine you

can, and then set about doing it," he advised.

III

Andrew MacWhirter was packing.

He laid three shirts carefully in his suitcase, and then that dark blue suit which he

had remembered to fetch from the cleaners.

Two suits left by two different MacWhirters

had been too much for the girl in charge.

There was a tap on the door and he called,

"Come in."

Audrey Strange walked in. She said:

"I've come to thank you are you pack-lng?"

"Yes. I'm leaving here tonight. And sailing the day after tomorrow."

"For South America?"

"For Chile."

She said, "I'll pack for you."

He protested, but she overbore him. He

watched her as she worked deftly and methodically.

"There," she said when she had finished.

"You did that well," said MacWhirter. There was a silence. Then Audrey said:

"You saved my life. If you hadn't happened to see what you did see "

She broke off.

Then she said:

"Did you realize at once, that night on

the cliff when you you stopped me going

over when you said, 'Go home, I'll see that

you're not hanged' did you realize then that

you'd got some important evidence?"

"Not precisely," said MacWhirter. "I had to think it out."

"Then how could you say. what you did

say?"

MacWhirter always felt annoyed when he

had to explain the intense simplicity of his

thought processes.

"I meant just precisely that that I intended to prevent you from being hanged."

The color came up in Audrey's cheeks.

"Supposing I had done it."

"That would have made no difference."

"Did you think I had done it, then?"

"I did not speculate upon the matter

overmuch. I was inclined to believe you were

innocent, but it would have made no difference

to my course of action."

"And then you remembered the man on

the rope?"

MacWhirter was silent for a few minutes.

Then he cleared his throat.

"You may as well know, I suppose. I did

not actually see a man climbing up a rope

indeed I could not have done so, for I

was up on Stark Head on Sunday night, not

on Monday. I deduced what must have hap-pened

from the evidence of the suit and my

suppositions were confu'med by the finding

of a wet rope in the attic."

From red Audrey had gone white. She

said incredulously:

"Your story was all a lie?"

"Deductions would not have carried weight

with the police. I had to say I saw what

happened."

"But you might have had to swear to it

at my trial."

"Yes."

"You would have done that?"

"I would."

Audrey cried:

"And you you are the man who lost his

job and came down to throwing himself off

a cliff because he wouldn't tamper with the

truth!'

"I have a great regard for the truth. But

I've discovered there are things that matter

more."

"Such as?"

"You," said MacWhirter.

Audrey's eyes dropped. He cleared his

throat in an embarrassed manner.

"There's no need for you to feel under

a great obligation or anything of that kind.

You'll never hear of me again after today.

The police have got Strange's confession and

they'll not need my evidence. In any case I

hear he's so bad he'll maybe not live to come

to trial."

"I'm glad of that," said Audrey.

"You were fond of him once?"

"Of the man I thought he was."

MacWhirter nodded.

"We've all felt that way, maybe."

He went on.

"Everything's turned out well. Superin-tendent Battle was able to act upon my story

and break down the man "

Audrey interrupted. She said:

"He worked upon your story, yes. But I

don't believe you fooled him. He deliberately

shut his eyes."

"Why do you say that?"

"When he was talking to me he men-tioned

it was lucky you saw what you did

in the mnnnlicrht and then added somothin

--a sentence or two later about it being a

rainy night."

MacWhirter was taken aback.

"That's true. On Monday night I doubt if

I'd have seen anything at all."

"said Audrey.

"It doesn't matter,

"He knew that what you pretended to

have seen was what had really happened.

But it explains why he worked on Nevile

to break him down. He suspected Nevile as

soon as Thomas told him about me and

Adrian. He knew then that if he was right

about the kind of crime he had fixed on

the wrong person what he wanted was some

kind of evidence to use on Nevile. He

wanted, as he said, a miracle--you were Su-perintendent Battle's answer to prayer."

"That's a curious thing for him to say," said MacWhirter dryly.

"So you see," said Audrey, "you are a miracle. My special miracle."

MacWhirter said earnestly:

"I'd not like you to feel you're under an

obligation to me. I'm going right out of your

life '

"Must you?" said Audrey.

He stared at her. The color came up,

flooding her ears and temples.

.qhicl'

"Won't you take me with you?"

"You don't know what you're saying!"

"Yes, I do. I'm doing something very

difficult but something that matters to me

more than life or death. I know the time is

very short. By the way, I'm conventional, I

should like to be married before we go!"

"Naturally," said MacWhirter, deeply

shocked. "You don't imagine I'd suggest

anything else."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," said Audrey. MacWhirter said:

"I'm not your kind. I thought you'd marry

that quiet fellow who's cared for you so long."

"Thomas? Dear true Thomas. He's too

true. He's faithful to the image of a girl he

loved years ago. But the person he really

cares for is Mary Aldin, though he doesn't

know it yet himself."

MacWhirter took a step towards her. He

spoke sternly.

"Do you mean what you're saying?"

"Yes . . . I want to be with you always,

never to leave you. If you go, I shall never

find anybody like you, and I shall go sadly

all my days."

MacWhirter sighed. He took out his wal-let

and carefully examined its contents.

He murmured:

",4 special license comes expensive. I'll

need to go to the bank first thing tomor-row.

'

"I could lend you some money," mur-mured Audrey.

"You'll do nothing of the kind. If I marry a woman, I pay for the license. You under-stand?"

"You needn't," said Audrey softly, "look so stern."

He said gently as he came towards her,

"Last time I had my hands on you, you

felt like a bird strugglirg to escape. You'll

never escape now .... "

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