‘The mot juste, as always!’

She looked at him with gravity.

‘Mr. Haile would have a strong motive, as you say. He has been at some pains to impress upon me that Lila Dryden must have committed the crime, either walking in her sleep, or in a fit of temporary derangement.’

Frank came back to his seat on the arm of the chair.

‘A curious business sleep-walking. How much does anyone really know about it? The person is asleep, the mind somewhere else. But some of the senses seem to operate. Or do they? The sleep-walker moves about a house, goes out-on a roof, into a garden-they’ve been known, I believe, to walk for miles! He goes where he wants to go, he doesn’t bump into things, and as a rule he doesn’t come to any harm. What guides him? Does he walk by sight, or by some sense that we don’t know anything about?’

Miss Silver had taken out her knitting-needles and was casting on. She said in a thoughtful voice,

‘I do not know. I knew a woman once who told me a very curious story. She was a Devonshire woman, and she was friendly with a farmer’s wife in the neighbourhood. This woman woke up in the night and found her husband gone. She supposed that he had got up to attend to one of the beasts, and she turned over and went to sleep. When she woke again it was beginning to get light. She heard her husband coming up the stairs. When he came into the room she spoke to him, but he did not answer, and she saw that he was asleep. He had on trousers and boots. He came in with a big bunch of heather in his hand. He laid it down on the counterpane, pulled off his boots and trousers, and got into bed, all without waking. He slept for about half an hour, and then woke up without the least idea that he had left his bed. He did not know that he had ever walked in his sleep before, and he had no recollection of any dream. And the nearest place where he could have picked the heather was up on the moors seven miles away. He had risen, dressed, walked fourteen miles in the night, and come back with his bunch of heather. That is a true story. I do not feel at all able to explain it.’

‘Nor I. But I suppose he must have had his dream about the heather, and come and gone in it. And then forgotten the whole thing. And that I suppose is what Lila Dryden might have done-if it were not for the medical evidence. She could have dreamed she was Lucy Ashton, stabbed Whitall in her dream, and forgotten all about it when she woke again. But the medical evidence being what it is, I think it rules that out. Even if Grey is lying when he says he followed her down from her room, I can’t believe she just stood there for that extra half-hour which has got to be accounted for. If Whitall was dead half an hour before Grey and Waring reached the study, then I don’t believe that Lila Dryden was there when he was killed. She wandered in afterwards. You agree?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Then I must get back to Haile and the question of whether he is suspect number one. He is doing his best to throw suspicion on Lila Dryden. The question is, did he have a motive for killing Herbert Whitall? If he knew that he was coming into the money under the old will, and that the new will had not been signed, then he did have a motive. Look here, what about having the secretary in? She would probably know whether the will had been signed or not. Anyhow it’s worth trying.’

As he got up and went over to press the bell, Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment. If he had been looking in her direction he might have received the impression that she was about to speak. She did not, however, do so, and by the time that he returned to his seat she was counting stitches in an abstracted manner.

CHAPTER XXIV

It was Marsham who answered the bell. Asked to find Miss Whitaker and tell her that Inspector Abbott would be glad to see her, he came over to the fire, put on a couple of logs, and departed on his errand. Miss Silver, having confirmed that she had the right number of stitches on her needles, was knitting in her usual smooth and rapid manner when Millicent Whitaker came into the room. Frank had moved to the writing-table. He noted her pallor, her black dress, a certain rigidity in her movements, and thought she showed more signs of shock than Lila Dryden did. She had been a long time with Sir Herbert. It was not impossible that she had been attached to him.

When she had taken the chair which he had placed for her, he said,

‘I won’t keep you, Miss Whitaker, but it occurred to me that you might be able to help us.’

‘Us?’

As she spoke the one word, her eyes went to Miss Silver in the sofa corner. Frank gave her his cool official stare.

‘Yes. Miss Silver is here as Lady Dryden’s representative. If you object to her presence, I will ask her to leave us. Have you any reason to object?’

‘Oh, no reason at all. I just wondered.’ There was a clipped sound about her speech. She seemed in a hurry to close her lips upon the words and have done with them.

Frank Abbott said,

‘Sir Herbert’s ’solicitor will be coming down tomorrow, but meanwhile I thought you might be able to help us in the matter of the will. Sir Herbert was making a new will in anticipation of his marriage, but there seems to be some uncertainty as to whether this will was signed or not. Lady Dryden believes that it was.’

‘She would,’ said Millicent Whitaker.

‘May I ask whether you mean anything by that?’

‘Oh, no, nothing. Why should I? I suppose the wish may be father to the thought-that is all.’

‘Well, you haven’t really answered my question, have you? Now, do you know whether Sir Herbert had signed that new will?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’

‘You were his secretary. Did nothing of the correspondence go through your hands?’

‘There was not much correspondence. Sir Herbert dealt with the matter personally. He has been up at his flat in town a good deal. He could call on his solicitors and give his instructions verbally.’

‘And were you in London, or down here?’

‘Sometimes one and sometimes the other, according to what suited Sir Herbert’s convenience.’

‘But he told you a good deal about this will?’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘And about the old one?’

‘I really know very little about either.’

‘Did you know that Mr. Haile was a beneficiary under the old will?’

For the first time, she hesitated. It struck him that if she knew and didn’t want to say, she would have to consider whether he could catch her out. If she did know, someone else might know that she knew. The thought had just time to present itself before she said,

‘I really couldn’t say. Sir Herbert would say things-I didn’t know whether he meant them, and I didn’t take a lot of notice.’

‘He did speak of Mr. Haile being a beneficiary?’

There was a spark in the fine dark eyes-a bright malicious spark.

‘He spoke of cutting him out of his will.’

‘Meaning out of this new will?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘When did he say this, Miss Whitaker?’

She looked down into her lap. Her voice went flat again.

It was yesterday.’

‘He was talking about Mr. Haile?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

The spark glowed again.

‘He said Mr. Haile would be dining here and spending the night. On his usual errand. He called it a fool’s errand and said Mr. Haile should have no more money out of him. “Not even after I’m dead,” he said. “I’m tired of him, and when I’m tired of anyone their name comes out of my will.” ’ The last few words came with an extraordinary edge to them. She half rose from her chair, and said, ‘Is that all? Because that’s all I can tell you.’

‘Just a moment, Miss Whitaker. You were away last night, were you not?’

She resumed her seat and said sharply,

‘I made a statement to Inspector Newbury. It was read over to me, and I signed it. My sister is not strong, and I had a telephone message that made me anxious. Mr. and Mrs. Considine gave me a lift to the village when they went away at half past ten, and I caught the last bus to Emsworth. I spent the night with my sister at 32, Station Road. I did not get back here until ten o’clock this morning.’