“Quite so,” said Algy. “May I point out, however, that your timetable rests chiefly on guesswork? Miss Hardwicke and I can corroborate each other as to the time she left the car, and Sturrock’s evidence as to the time the alarm-bell rang probably has the support of the rest of the staff, but between 12 and 12.15 you’re just guessing, and you know it. It’s no use asking anyone who has ever met Lady Colesborough to expect her to be accurate about time. If she said she heard a clock strike just before she left her room, it might have been one minute before or it might have been ten-I don’t suppose she’d notice the difference.” He turned to Colonel Anstruther. “You’ve been talking to her, sir. Would you expect her to be accurate-well, about anything?”

“Woman’s a half-wit,” said Colonel Anstruther. “Waste of time talking to her-waste of time asking her anything. Hasn’t got a mind, and doesn’t try to use whatever it is she’s got instead. I’ll give you that if it’s any use to you, Mr. Somers-you’ll want all you can get. Any more questions, Mr. Brook?”

Mr. Brook shook his head.

XXV

When are we going to get away from this horrible place?” said Gay.

She and Algy Somers were standing side by side, looking out from the drawing-room across the terrace and the lawn to the rose, garden divided and enclosed by the dark T shape of the yew walk. There were five windows, straight and rather narrow, all hung with curtains of pale, cold brocade which repeated the faded green of the winter grass and the grey and blue of the winter sky. Gay and Algy were at the middle window, standing close but not looking at one another. They looked instead at the lawn where they had groped in the dark, and the black mouth of the tunnel down which they had run to find a murdered man.

“When are we going to get away from this horrible place, Algy?”

Algy smiled.

“I don’t know, my child-when they’ve made up their minds whether to arrest me at once or to wait for the inquest. You’ll have to stay for the inquest anyhow, I’m afraid, but you’ll be able to go as soon as it’s over. If I’m not figuring as the accused by then, I shall be able to go too-we might even go together.”

Gay swung round with a bright colour in her cheeks.

“They don’t-they can’t!”

Algy saw the colour out of the tail of his eye, and avoided looking at it.

“Oh, they’re quite sure that I am Mr. Zero, and that I shot Sir Francis. The only thing they’re not sure about is whether they’ve got enough evidence to put before a jury. I don’t think they have myself, but if they do, they’ll be three to one, and I shall be for it.”

Gay’s hand kept slipping inside his arm, tugging at his sleeve.

“Don’t! Don’t say it! Algy, please don’t say it.”

He was aware of her looking over her shoulder as if she expected the immediate entry of the Inspector. He turned to her then with half a laugh.

“They’ll wait till the safe has been opened anyhow. Mr. Patterson, the Colesborough family solicitor, is coming down to be present. Stuffy old boy. Furious at being called out on a Sunday, and ready to have apoplexy at the idea of their proceeding without him. I could hear old Anstruther fairly booming at him on the telephone-and getting as good as he gave, I should say. I was the other side of the hall or I might have heard Patterson too. The study door was ajar and they were at it hammer and tongs. In the upshot, I gathered that Patterson would be here in time for tea-another jolly, companionable meal.”

Gay’s hand was warm against his arm, against his side. It shook a little as she said,

“What’s in the safe?”

“Something that’ll show them I’m not Mr. Zero, I hope, but you never can tell.”

“If there’s anything, it’ll be here,” said Gay. “Sylvia swears there weren’t any papers in the town safe, only the packet of letters she took. I told them that, and they asked her and she stuck to it. So if there’s anything to find, it’ll be here.”

“Monty will probably blow in some time,” said Algy. “He’s staying with the other Wessex-Gardner, the one they call Binks, only about five miles from here. Maud Lushington and Constance Wessex-Gardner are sisters.” He laughed a little. “He takes the wretched Brewster down and makes him work like a galley slave. The funny thing is that Brewster likes it. He told me once in a hushed voice that it was a privilege which he appreciated very highly, and he rather gave me up as a lost soul when I said he could keep it as far as I was concerned. Of course he’s the perfect secretary and I’m not. I’d much rather be doing something on my own.”

Gay’s hand pulled at his arm.

“Algy-will Mr. Lushington stand up for you?”

“He’s been a brick so far, but-well, he’s got to be careful. If I wasn’t his cousin, it would make it a lot easier for him to take my part.”

Gay pressed closer.

“It’s going to be all right. Algy, say it’s going to be all right!”

Algy looked out at the yew walk.

“It’s going to be as right as rain, my dear.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

“Because I think I’d better not, Gay.”

She said, “Why?” and only just managed to get the word to make any sound at all. The sound was so small that Algy did not feel obligated to take any notice of it. He made instead a movement to release himself, but in doing so he found Gay’s upturned face much, much nearer than he expected. It was on a level with his shoulder, the eyes very bright and intent, cheeks glowing and lips just parted on that trembling word. They looked at one another, and he said,

“My dear-I mustn’t-now-”

Gay said “Why?” again. This time it was only a breath like a sigh, but it came from her very heart. She had both hands clasped about his arm, and he was trying to unclasp them. He said,

“You know why.”

“I don’t care,” said Gay. “I don’t care a bit what anyone thinks, and I don’t care if they arrest you.” Her hands clung to each other and to him. “I don’t care about anything unless-unless you don’t care for me.”

There was a dreadful little pause. Her clasp relaxed. She stepped back, her eyes suddenly blurred so much that she couldn’t see, and in a forlorn and faltering tone she said, “You don’t. It-it doesn’t matter if you don’t, Algy.” She felt her left hand caught, and blinked away two blinding tears. Having got her hand, Algy was holding it so tight that it felt as if all the bones were breaking. This was naturally very encouraging, but just as she managed to swallow a sob that was threatening to choke her the comforting pressure ceased. She had her hand again, rather the worse for wear, and Algy Somers had reached the door and banged it behind him. Gay dried her eyes, and presently went upstairs to Sylvia.

XXVI

Sylvia was lying on the old-fashioned couch in her room. She looked pale and depressed, but she brightened up when Gay came in.

“Are they still asking everybody questions?” she said in a plaintive voice. “They do ask a lot, don’t they? I’m sure they went on and on at me until I felt quite giddy. Will they go away soon, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” said Gay. Her heart felt like a heavy stone inside her and her throat was dry. She would have liked to put her head down in Sylvia’s lap and weep, but you couldn’t do that sort of thing.

Sylvia sighed.

“It would be nice if they would go away, wouldn’t it? I don’t mind Algy-he’s nice, but I wish the Inspector would go away, and that Mr. Brook, and Colonel Anstruther. Why did they want to ask me all those questions? It isn’t as if they could possibly think that I shot Francis.” She shivered, and her voice had a frightened sound. “They couldn’t think that-Gay, they couldn’t!” They kept wanting to know why I picked up the pistol. And I don’t know. It was all so quick and so dreadful. But they can’t think I did it. Why, you were there, and Algy. Why couldn’t it have been Algy?”