Chapter XX

Lee opened the door and saw Miss Phoebe Challoner just putting up her finger to push the bell again. Even on this very hot day Miss Challoner wore a neat tight coat and skirt of clerical grey, and shiny black kid gloves. Her very thick iron-grey hair was drawn back into a plait which she wore coiled round and round at the back of her head. There was so much plait that her hats always sat on the top of her head and tilted forward. They were very neat hats, usually boat-shaped, and trimmed with one of those hard ornaments which look as if they had become accidentally detached from a piece of funerary sculpture.

Miss Challoner had a square, pale face, a stubborn chin, and a pair of steel-grey eyes under very marked eyebrows. She was a friend of Lucy Craddock’s, and Lee’s heart sank within her, because if Miss Challoner had heard about Ross’s death, no power on earth would prise her away from the front door. She would insist on coming in, and she would continue to ask questions until she felt quite sure that she had got all the answers.

Miss Challoner dropped her black kid finger from the bell and said,

“How do you do, Lee? I thought you had gone to America.”

Lee shuddered. It wasn’t fair that she should have to confront Miss Challoner on the top of everything else. If she gave her the smallest opening, all would be over. She would find herself sitting down to a cosy tête-à-tête and imparting full details of the Merville affair as a preliminary to all about Ross.

She allowed only one word to cross her lips. She said,

“No.”

“Dear me-how was that? Lucy didn’t say. You must tell me all about it. You look terribly washed out. If you find a little heat like this so trying you would certainly not have enjoyed South America. It was South, wasn’t it? But I see New York had a temperature of a hundred and five yesterday, so if you feel the heat you had better stay on this side of the Atlantic. But I didn’t come here to talk about the weather, I came here to fetch poor Lucy’s things.” She turned her head sharply and saw Detective Abbott emerge from No. 8. “What’s that policeman doing here?”

Lee’s original desire to keep Miss Challoner out of the flat changed suddenly to a desperate anxiety to get her inside before she could start cross-examining Detective Abbott. She said all in a breath,

“There’s been an accident. Please do come in. What did you say about Cousin Lucy’s things?”

Miss Challoner detached her gaze with reluctance. Detective Abbott went back into the flat, but he did not close the door.

“An accident?” said Miss Challoner at the pitch of a naturally strong voice. “Who has had an accident?”

Lee took no notice.

“What did you say about Cousin Lucy? Do please come in. Why do you want her things?”

“Three nightgowns,” said Miss Challoner rapidly, “three vests, bedroom slippers, dressing-gown, toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste.”

“Why?” said Lee, staring at her.

“She forbade me to telephone,” said Miss Challoner. “When I said, ‘I will ring up Craddock House and let them know that you are with me,’ she absolutely forbade me to do so, and in her alarming state of agitation I felt obliged to give her the promise she demanded. But nightgowns and a toothbrush she must have, so I have come to fetch them.”

Lee felt quite dazed. She said in a light faraway voice,

“I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about. Would you like to tell me-but it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to.”

“You look extremely washed out,” said Miss Challoner. “I can’t think why you should be so confused. I find this hot weather very bracing myself. It seems to me quite obvious if poor Lucy is to be confined to her bed for several days, that she will require her nightgowns and a toothbrush.”

Lee took hold of the door jamb. She said as slowly and distinctly as she could,

“Cousin Lucy started for the Continent last night. I saw her off at Victoria.”

“She didn’t go,” said Miss Challoner.

“I saw her off.”

“Did you see her to the barrier, or did you see her into the train?”

“To the barrier, but-”

“She didn’t go,” said Miss Challoner firmly.

“What did she do?” Lee could only manage a whisper.

“She turned back. As soon as you were gone. She had something on her mind and she felt she couldn’t start-something to do with that niece of hers, Mavis Grey. She felt she must see her again before she went. But she couldn’t find her. She seems to have gone to and fro looking for her for hours, and she seems to have worked herself into a terrible state of nerves. Really, by the time she came to me she was quite unhinged. Dr. Clarke says she must be kept perfectly quiet and not attempt to get out of bed for several days. I have had to lend her a nightgown, but I always wear flannel, and she dislikes it very much. She has lost her luggage ticket, so I cannot get any of her things out of the cloakroom, and nightgowns and a toothbrush she must have.”

About a third of the way through this speech Lee took her hand off the jamb and stepped back. She tried to draw Miss Challoner with her, and she tried to stem the flow of her words. She might have spared herself the pains. Nobody had ever yet succeeded in interrupting Miss Challoner, and nobody ever would. She merely raised her voice, increased its volume, and pronounced each word more forcibly. What she began to say, that she would finish. She finished.

Lee said in a trembling voice, “Oh, do please come inside,” but it was too late.

Detective Abbott came out of Ross Craddock’s flat and crossed the landing. He said,

“Just a moment, madam. I think the Inspector would like to see you.”

Miss Challoner swung round.

“The Inspector?”

“Yes, madam. I think he would like to know at what hour Miss Lucy Craddock reached you in the agitated state which you have just described to Miss Fenton.”

“I can’t see what it’s got to do with the police,” said Miss Challoner briskly, “but I am sure I have nothing to conceal. Miss Craddock knocked me up at a quarter past three this morning.”

Chapter XXI

Inspector Lamb sat at Ross Craddock’s writing-table and gazed frowningly at what the fingerprint experts had sent him. The heat of yesterday had turned to heavy cloud and the threat of rain.

“I’ve taken a dislike to this place, Abbott,” he said.

“Did you say ‘place,’ or ‘case,’ sir?”

“Both,” said the Inspector succinctly. He threw a gloomy glance at the large photograph of Miss Mavis Grey which Peterson’s ministrations had restored to an upright position and placed upon the mantelpiece. It had been found on the floor with a crack across the glass and across Miss Grey’s slender neck. “That girl’s a liar if I ever saw one,” he added. “Now look here, I’m going to run over what we’ve got against the lot of them-just to clear my own mind, as it were. You can take it down.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Number one-Mr. Peter Renshaw. Plenty of stuff there. He is on bad terms with his cousin. He has words with him about Miss Grey. He is seen just inside his open door when Miss Grey comes back to the flat at three a.m., when, to my mind, there’s no doubt at all that the murder had already been committed. And he comes in for most of the money. On the top of that we have his suspicious behaviour with the revolver. Apart from this there is no other fingerprint of his inside the flat. Got that down?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Number two-Miss Mavis Grey. All her behaviour very suspicious, and a real determined liar. What’s the sense of her admitting she was in the flat with Mr. Craddock and ran away from him to Mr. Renshaw, and then denying that she went back to the flat again, when the same witness can swear to having seen her enter Mr. Renshaw’s flat on both occasions? Plenty of her fingerprints everywhere-on the glass, on the decanter, on the table that was knocked over, and, for all we know, on the revolver before Mr. Renshaw started playing with it. Why can’t she say what she was doing that second time, confound her?”