‘You hear,’ said the coroner, slightly put out. ‘The jury wish to know the cause of your dispute with the deceased.’

‘Yes, sir. The deceased threatened to report me for a breach of duty.’

‘Ah!’ said the coroner. ‘Well, we are not here to examine into your official conduct. It was he that threatened you, not you that threatened him?’

‘That’s right, sir; though I admit I was annoyed and spoke a bit sharp to him.’

‘I see. You did not return to the house that night?*

‘No, sir.’

‘Very well; that will do. Superintendent Kirk.’

The little stir of excitement aroused by Sellon’s evidence died down before the enormous impassivity of Mr Kirk, who described, very slowly and at considerable length, the arrangement of the rooms in the house, the nature of the fastenings on the doors and windows and the difficulty of ascertaining the facts due to the (quite fortuitous though very unfortunate) disturbance caused by the arrival of the new occupiers. The next witness was Martha Ruddle. She was in a great state of excitement, and almost excessively ready to assist the law. It was, indeed, her own readiness that undid her.

‘… that taken aback,’ said Mrs Ruddle, ‘you could a knocked me down with a feather. Driving up to the door in the middle of the night as you might say, in sech a big motor-car as I never did see in all my born days, not without it was on the picturs-Lord what? I says, not believing him, which I’m sure, sir, it ain’t surprising, more like film-stars I says, begging your pardon, and of course I were mistook, but that there car being so big and the lady in a fur coat and the gentleman with a glass in his eye jest like Ralph Lynn, which was all I could see in the-’

Peter turned the monocle on the witness with so outraged an astonishment that the giggles turned to loud laughter.

‘Kindly keep to the question,’ said Mr Perkins, vexed;

‘you were surprised to hear that the house was sold. Very well. We have heard how you got in. Will you please describe the condition of the house as you observed it*

From a tangle of irrelevancies, the coroner disengaged the facts that the bed had not been slept in, that the supper things were on the table, and that the cellar-door had been found open. With a weary sigh (for his cold was a severe one and he wanted to finish and get home), he took the witness back to the events of the preceding Wednesday.

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Ruddle, ‘I did see Joe Sellon, and a nice sorter pleecemen ’e is, usin’ language not fit for a respectable woman to listen to, I don’t wonder Mr Noakes shet the winder in ’is face…’

‘You saw him do that?’

‘Plain as the nose on your face, I see ’im. Standin’ there ’e was with the candlestick in ’is ’and, same as I couldn’t miss seein’ ’im, and laffin’ fit to bust, and well ’e might, ’earin’ Joe Sellon carryin’ on that ridiculous. Well, I says to meself, a nice pleeceman you are, Joe Sellon, and I oughter know it, seem’ you ’ad ter come ter me to find out ’oo took them ’ens of Miss Twitterton’s…’

‘We are not inquiring into that.’ began the coroner, when the lugubrious man again rose up and said:

‘The jury would like to know whether the witness heard what the quarrel was about.’

‘Yes, I did,’ said the witness, without waiting for the coroner. ‘They was quarrellin’ about ’is wife, that’s what they was quarrellin’ about, and I say it’s a-’

‘Whose wife?’ asked the coroner; while the whole room rustled with expectation.

‘Joe’s wife, o’course,’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘What ’ave you; done wi’ my wife, you old villain, ’e says, usin’ names wot I wouldn’t put me tongue to.’

Joe Sellon sprang to his feet

‘That’s a lie, sir!’

‘Now, Joe,’ said Kirk.

‘We’ll hear you in a moment,’ said Mr Perkins. ‘Now, Mrs a Ruddle. You’re sure you heard those words?’

The bad words, sir?’ “

“The words, “What have you done with my wife”?’

‘Oh, yes, sir-I heard that, sir.’

‘Did any threats pass?’

‘N’no, sir,’ admitted Mrs Ruddle, regretfully, ‘only sayin’ as Mr Noakes was bound for the bad place, sir.’

‘Quite so. No suggestions about how he was likely to get there?’

‘Sir?’

‘No mention of killing or murder?’

‘Not as I ’eard, sir, but I wouldn’t be surprised if ’e did offer to kill Mr Noakes, Not a bit, I wouldn’t.’

‘But actually you heard nothing of the sort?’

‘Well, I couldn’t rightly say I did, sir.’

‘And Mr Noakes was alive and well when he shut the window?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Kirk leaned across the table and spoke to the coroner, who asked: ‘Did you hear anything further?’

‘I didn’t want to ’ear nothing further, sir. All I ’eard was that Joe Sellon a-’ammerin’ on the door.’

‘Did you hear Mr Noakes let him in?’

‘Let ’im in?’ cried Mrs Ruddle. ‘Wot ’ud Mr Noakes want ter be lettin’ ’im in for? Mr Noakes wouldn’t let nobody in wot used language to ’im like wot Joe used. ’E was a terrible timid man, was Mr Noakes.’

‘I see. And the next morning you came to the house and got no answer?’

“That’s right. And I says, lor’, I says, Mr Noakes must a-gone over to Broxford…’

‘Yes; you told us that before. And although you had heard this terrible quarrel the night before, it never occurred to you that anything might have happened to Mr Noakes?’

‘Well, no, I didn’t. I thought ’e’d gone off to Broxford, same as’e often did…’

‘Quite. In fact. until Mr Noakes was found dead, you thought nothing of this quarrel and attached no importance to it?’

‘Well.’ said Mrs Ruddle, ‘only w’en I knowed as ’e must a-died afore ’ar-pas’-nine.’

‘How did you know that?’

Mrs Ruddle, with many circumlocutions, embarked upon the story of the wireless. Peter Wimsey wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper, which he folded and passed to Kirk. The Superintendent nodded, and passed it on to the coroner, who, at the conclusion of the story, asked:

‘Wireless was Mr Noakes’s business?’

‘Oh, yes, sir?’

‘If anything had gone wrong with the set, could he have put it right?’

‘Oh, yes, sir. ’E was very clever with them things.’

‘But he only cared to listen to the news-bulletin?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘What time did he usually go to bed?’

‘Eleven o’clock, sir. Reg’lar as clockwork ’e was, supper at ’ar-pas’-seven, noos at ’ar-pas’-nine, bed at eleven, w’en ’e wos at ’ome, that is.’

‘Quite. How did you come to be near enough at half past nine to know whether the wireless was on?’

Mrs Ruddle hesitated. ‘I jest stepped over to the shed, sir.’

‘Yes?’

‘Jest ter fetch something, sir.’

‘Yes?’

‘Only a mite o’ paraffin, sir,’ said Mrs Ruddle, ‘which I’d a-put it back faithful in the morning, sir.’

‘Ah, yes. Well, that’s none of our business. Thank you. Now, Joseph Sellon-you want to make a further statement?’

‘Yes, sir. Only this, sir. Them words about Mrs Sellon wasn’t never mentioned at all. I might a-said, “Now, don’t you report me, sir, or I’ll be in trouble, and what’ll become of my wife?” That’s all, sir.’

‘The deceased never interfered with your wife in any way?’

‘No, sir. Certainly not, sir.’

‘I think I had better ask you whether the last witness bears you any grudge, to your knowledge.’

‘Well, sir, about then ’ens o’ Miss Twitterton’s. In the execution of my duty I ’ad to interrogate ’er son Albert, and I think she took it amiss, sir.’

‘I see. I think that’s-Yes, Superintendent?’

Mr Kirk had just received another message from his noble colleague. It appeared to perplex him; but he faithfully put the question.

‘Well,’ said Mr Perkins, ‘I should have thought you could have asked him yourself. However. The Superintendent wishes to know the length of the candle deceased had in his hand when he came to the window.’

Joe Sellon stared.

‘I don’t know, sir,’ he said, finally. ‘I never noticed. I don’t think it was special one way or the other.’