He looked down at the stains on the front of Hilary’s dress and coat. She said that they had put her down on her face in the road. Her jumper was stained right up to the throat. He knew what he wanted to believe, but there is no help in believing what isn’t true. He said,

‘Who do you think the two men were? Have you any idea?’

‘Yes, of course I have. I think one of them was Mercer.’

‘But not the one you heard speak?’

‘No, not that one.’

‘Mercer wouldn’t have a car.’

He was arguing as if the thing was true instead of being fantastic.

‘Oh no – the car belonged to the other man. It was a big car.’ She gave a little shudder as she remembered it rushing down upon her. Then she said in a defiant voice, ‘It was Bertie Everton’s car. I’m sure it was.’

‘What makes you say that? What have you got to go on?’

‘Nothing – I’m just sure. And he did come round to the shop on purpose to tell you Mrs. Mercer was mad after she’d talked to me in the train.’

Henry felt a most overwhelming relief. He had very nearly swung over to believing in Hilary’s villains, but thank goodness he had been pulled up in time. The whole thing was fantastic. On this point at least he could bring proof.

‘Look here, Hilary, you mustn’t go saying things like that – you’ll be getting yourself into trouble. And you’re wrong – it couldn’t have been Bertie Everton because he was in London.’

‘Oh – did you see him?’

‘No, but Marion did.’

‘What?’

‘ Marion saw him. You know you told me to ring her up and say I was bringing you home. Well, he’d just left her then. She was in a white rage about it. He rang her up at her shop. She only just managed to choke him off coming there, I gather, and when she got back to the flat he was waiting for her. So you see -you mayn’t like Bertie Everton, but he didn’t try and run you down. He’s got a perfectly good alibi.’

Hilary lifted her head with a jerk.

‘I think Bertie Everton has too many alibis,’ she said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Marion was still in a cold rage when they arrived at the flat. A hot anger would have been so much easier to meet. When you love someone and they look at you as if they had never seen you before and never want to see you again, it does rather take the edge off coming home.

Hilary subsided on to the floor in front of the fire. There was a chair to lean against. She folded her arms on the seat and pillowed her head upon them. Henry, in the open doorway, was very well aware that he hadn’t heen asked to come in, and that he was not expected to stay.

Marion had walked to the window. As she turned, Henry came in and shut the door. With a lift of her eyebrows, she said,

‘I think Hilary ought to go to bed.’

Hilary said nothing. Henry said,

‘I think you’d better hear what she’s got to say first. It concerns you – quite a lot.’

‘Not tonight. I’ve had one visitor already, and I’ve run out of polite conversation.’

‘So I gather.’

‘Then will you please go, Henry.’

‘Not just now.’

Without lifting her head Hilary spoke in a muffled voice.

‘Please, Marion.’

Marion Grey took no notice.

‘I really want you to go,’ she said.

Henry leaned against the door. He had his hat in his hand.

‘Just a minute, Marion. And I think you’d better listen, because – well, I think you had better. Hilary’s had a very narrow escape.’

She took him up there and echoed the word.

‘Escape. From what?’

‘Being murdered,’ said Hilary in a mournful, muffled tone.

Marion turned her head sharply.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Being murdered. I nearly was. Henry can tell you – I’m too tired.’

Marion looked from one to the other. She saw Henry’s brows drawn together, frowning. She saw the look in his eyes as they rested on Hilary’s untidy curls. Something melted in her. She let herself down into a chair and said,

‘All right, Henry, say your piece.’

Henry said it. The odd thing was that repeating Hilary’s story gave him the feeling that it was true. He continued to assert that he was not convinced, but as he told her tale he found himself endeavouring to convince Marion, and in the end he didn’t know whether he had convinced her or not. He simply didn’t know. She was leaning her head on her hand. Her eyes were screened. Her gaze was turned inward upon her own guarded thoughts.

‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its grief.’ She was not angry now, but she was stilt cold. There was no warmth in her. When he had finished she sat silent, and when the silence had gone on too long Henry broke it bluntly.

‘You’ve had Bertie Everton here. Hilary thinks he was one of the men who tried to do her in. It’s quite unreasonable, but she does think so – there you are. I think you’ve got to tell her what time he rang you up, and when he rolled up here, and how long he stayed. Hilary seems to think it’s rather compromising to have an alibi, but the fellow can’t have been in two places at once.’

‘I didn’t say he could,’ said Hilary in a buried voice. Then she lifted her head about an inch. ‘An alibi isn’t being in two places at once – it’s doing a crime in one place and pretending you were somewhere else.’

Henry burst out laughing.

‘When did you make that up?’

‘Just now,’ said Hilary, and dropped her head again.

Marion said, without looking at either of them,

‘He rang me up about five o’clock. I was showing some models which had just come in. We sold three of them. It was just after five – I heard the clock strike as I came out of the showroom.’

‘Did he say where he was calling you from?’

‘No. He must have been in town though, because he suggested coming round to Harriet’s, and when I said he couldn’t possibly, he said he’d go to the flat and wait for me. He was here when I got back.’

‘And what time would that be?’

‘Some time after seven. I told him I should be late-I thought it might put him off.’

‘What did he want?’ said Hilary to the chair.

Marion stiffened. Her hand dropped. Her eyes blazed.

‘I don’t know how he dared to come here and talk about Geoff!’

‘What did he say?’ said Hilary quickly.

‘Nothing. I don’t know why he came. He had some rambling story about having met someone who had seen Geoff get off the bus the evening James was shot, but he didn’t seem to know who the man was, and it didn’t seem to add anything to the evidence. Anyhow, it couldn’t do any good now. I don’t know why he came.’

‘I do.’ Hilary sat up and pushed back her hair. ‘He did it to have an alibi. If he could get you to believe that he was in London all the afternoon, well then he couldn’t be murdering me on the Ledstow road -could he?’ Her hair stood up in little fluffy curls. Her no-coloured eyes were as bright as a tomtit’s.

‘But, my blessed darling child!’ said Henry. He laughed. ‘You’re a bit groggy about alibis tonight. Have you any idea what time you had your smash?’

She considered.

‘Well, I hadn’t got a watch, and it wouldn’t have been any good if I had because of the fog and being dark, but I had tea at the pub in Ledstow because it was tea-time, and it wasn’t dark then – only foggy and Novemberish. And I suppose I was there about half an hour, so should think it was about five when I saw Mercer and bolted. And after that I don’t know how long I was. It seemed ages, because I had to keep getting off my bicycle – the fog was simply lying about in lumps. It’s very difficult to say, but I should think the smash was somewhere getting on for half past five.’

‘Well, then, with the worst will in the world, it couldn’t have been Bertie Everton who ran you down if he was in London telephoning to Marion at five o’clock.’

Hilary wrinkled her nose.