“I believe so, sir.”

“Where were you to spend the night?”

“In his lordship’s Town residence,” said Tinkerton genteelly. “Twenty-four Brummel Street, Park Lane.”

“At such short notice?”

“A skeleton staff is kept there,” said Tinkerton. “Of course,” she added.

“Do you know why this visit was undertaken?”

“His lordship received a telegram yesterday.”

“From Lord Charles Lamprey?”

“I believe so.”

“Have you any idea why Lord Charles wanted to see his brother?”

Tinkerton’s expression of disapproval became still deeper. Alleyn thought he saw a glint of complacency behind it. Perhaps, after all, Miss Tinkerton was not altogether proof against the delights of gossip.

“Her ladyship,” she said, “mentioned that it was a business visit. H’m.”

“And do you know the nature of the business?”

“It came up,” said Tinkerton, “on the drive during conversation between his lordship and her ladyship.”

“Yes?”

“I sat with Mr. Giggle in front and did not catch the remarks, beyond a word here and there.”

“Still, you gathered—”

“I did not listen,” said Tinkerton, “of course.”

“Of course not.”

“But his lordship raised his voice once or twice and said he would not do something that his brother wished him to do.”

“What was that, do you know?”

“It was money matters.” Something very like a sneer appeared on Tinkerton’s lips.

“What sort of money matters?”

“The usual thing. Wanting his lordship to pay out.”

He could get no more from her than that. She showed no particular reluctance to answering his questions and no particular interest in them. He began to wonder if she had any warmth of feeling or any sense of partisanship in her makeup. As an experiment, he led the conversation towards Lady Wutherwood, and found that Tinkerton had been in her service for fifteen years. Her ladyship, she said mincingly, was always very kind. Alleyn remembered those lack-lustre eyes and that sagging mouth and wondered wherein the kindness lay. He asked Tinkerton if she had noticed any change in her mistress. Tinkerton said dully that her ladyship was always the same, very kind. “And generous?” Alleyn ventured. Yes, it seemed her ladyship was generous and considerate. Pressing a little more persistently Alleyn asked if she had noticed no mental instability in Lady Wutherwood. Tinkerton instantly became an oyster and to his next questions either answered no, or did not answer at all. She did not think Lady Wutherwood’s behaviour was so very peculiar. She could not say whether Lady Wutherwood was interested in the occult. Lady Wutherwood did not take any medicine or drug of any sort. Lady Wutherwood’s relations with her husband were not in any way unusual. She couldn’t say what sort of nursing-home it was that Lady Wutherwood went to. She did not notice anything very odd in Lady Wutherwood’s manner a few minutes ago. Her ladyship was upset, said Tinkerton of her own accord, and people often spoke wildly when they were upset. It was only natural.

“Was that why you made signs to the nurse over her ladyship’s shoulder?” asked Alleyn.

“Her ladyship is suffering from shock,” said Tinkerton in a burst of comparative candour. “I understand her ladyship. I knew she ought not to be upset by questions. I knew she ought to be in bed.”

It was the same thing when they came to the late Lord Wutherwood. He was, said Tinkerton, a very quiet gentleman. She wouldn’t describe him as mean nor would she describe him as generous. She couldn’t say whether he had understood his wife. By using the strictest economy of words Tinkerton managed to convey the impression that Alleyn was making an exhibition of himself and, if that was really her opinion, he was inclined to agree with her. He ran out of questions and sat looking at this infuriating woman. Suddenly he rose to his feet and, walking round the table, stood over her. Unlike most tall men Alleyn had the trick of swift movement. Tinkerton stiffened uneasily on the edge of her chair.

“You know, of course, that Lord Wutherwood was murdered?”

She actually turned rather pale.

“You know that?” Alleyn repeated.

“Everybody is saying so, sir.”

“Who is everybody? You have been with Lady Wutherwood ever since it happened. Does she say her husband was murdered?”

“The nurse said so.”

“Did the nurse tell you how he died?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did she tell you? Describe it, exactly, if you please.”

Tinkerton moistened her lips. “The nurse said he was injured with a knife.”

“What sort of knife?”

“I mean a skewer.”

“How was it done?”

“The nurse said he had been stabbed through his eye.”

“Who did it?”

Tincerton gaped at him.

“You heard me, I think,” said Alleyn. “Who murdered Lord Wutherwood?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about it.”

“You know he must have been killed by some one in this flat”

“The nurse said so.”

“It was so. Very well, then. You understand that if you can prove it was impossible for you to have stabbed Lord Wutherwood through his eye into his brain, you had better do so.”

“But I said — I said I was downstairs when he was still calling her ladyship. I said so.”

“How am I to know that is true?”

“Mr. Giggle will have heard. He knew I was behind him. Ask Mr. Giggle.”

“I have asked him. He doesn’t remember hearing Lord Wutherwood call a second time.”

“But he did call a second time, sir. I tell you I heard him, sir. Mr. Giggle must have been too far down to have heard. I was behind Mr. Giggle.”

“And you say you met nobody and saw nobody as you passed along the passage, through the hall, and across the landing?”

“Only Mr. Giggle, sir, and he didn’t notice me. I just caught sight of his back as he went down and Master Michael’s back as he went into the other flat. Before God, sir, it’s true.”

“You are voluble enough,” said Alleyn, “when it comes to your own safety.”

“It’s true,” Tinkerton repeated shrilly. “I’ve said nothing that wasn’t true.”

“You’ve been with Lady Wutherwood fifteen years yet you don’t know the name of the nursing-home she went to or why she went. You don’t know whether she is interested in the supernatural or whether she isn’t. You say she never takes any medicine or drug. Do you still insist that all three statements are truthful?”

“I won’t talk about my lady. My lady hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s frightened and ill and shocked. It’s not my place to answer questions about her.”

Her hands worked drily together against the fabric of her skirt. Alleyn watched her for a moment and then turned aside.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll leave it at that. Before you go I want you to mark on this plan your exact position when Master Michael went into the other flat and when you saw Lord Wutherwood sitting in the lift.”

“I don’t know that I remember exactly.”

“Try.”

He put his sketch plan on the table with a pencil.

Tinkerton took the pencil in her left hand and, after consideration, made two faint dots on the plan.

“Your statement will be written out in longhand,” said Alleyn, “and you will be asked to sign it. That’s all for the moment. Thank you. Good night.” iii

“You were remarkably crisp with the woman,” said Curtis. “I’ve never heard you less amiable. What was wrong?”

“She’s a liar,” said Alleyn.

“Because she wouldn’t talk about her mistress? Wasn’t that rather commendable?”

“Not because of that. She told a string of lies. Have a look at the statement later on and you’ll spot them.”

“You flatter me, I’m afraid. Why was she lying, do you suppose?”

“Not because she murdered Master,” grunted Alleyn. “It’s a right-handed job if ever there was one.”

“She may be ambidextrous.”

“I don’t think so. She opened and closed the door, marked the plan, and took out her handkerchief with the left hand. She used the left hand every time she ministered to Lady Wutherwood. She’s not our pigeon, unless she’s an accessory to the blasted fact. What do you think, Fox?”