“I think Terence should be let off,” he said to Alleyn.

“I’m extremely sorry,” Alleyn returned, “but I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He moved to the fire-place and stood with his back to it, collecting their attention. It was an unpleasantly familiar moment and he was struck by the resemblance of all frightened people to each other. There was always a kind of blankness in their faces. They always watched him carefully, yet turned aside their gaze when he looked directly at them. There was always a tendency to draw together, to make a wary little mob of themselves, leaving him isolated.

He was isolated now, a tall figure, authoritative and watchful, unaware of himself, closely attentive to their self-consciousness.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “that I can’t let anybody off. I should tell you that at the moment it seems unlikely that this attack was made by one of the outside men. Each of you, therefore, will be well advised, in your own interest, to give an account of your movements since I left this room to go up to the annex for my cigarette case.”

“I can’t believe this is true,” said Ursula. “You sound exactly like a detective. For the first time.”

“I’m afraid I must behave like one. Will you all sit down? Suppose we start with you, Captain Grace.”

“Me? I say, look here, sir…”

“What did you do when I left the room?”

“Yes, well, what did I do? I was sitting here reading the paper when you came in, wasn’t I? Yes, well, you went out and I said: ‘D’you think I ought to go up with him—’ meaning you—‘and help him look for his blasted case?’ and nobody answered and I said: ‘Oh, well, how about a bit of shut-eye?’ and I wound up my watch and everybody pushed off. I went out on the side lawn here and had a squint at the sky. I always do that, last thing. Freshens you up. I think I heard you bang the back door.” Douglas paused and looked baffled. “At least I suppose it was really Fabian, wasn’t it, because you say he went. Well, I mean he must have gone if you found him up there, mustn’t he? Someone was moving up the track beyond the side fence. I thought it was probably one of the men. I called out ‘Good night’ but they didn’t answer. Well, I just came in and the others had gone, so I put the screen in front of the fire, got my candle and went upstairs. I tapped on Terry’s door and said good-night. I had a bath and went to my room, and then I heard you snooping about the passage and I wondered what was up because I’ve been a bit jumpy about people in the passage ever since…” Here Douglas paused and glanced at Markins. “However!” he said. “I called out: ‘Is that you, Fab?’ and you answered, you’ll remember, and I went to bed.”

“Any witnesses?” asked Alleyn. “Terence. I told you I tapped on her door.”

“Did you hear him?” Alleyn asked Ursula. “Yes. I heard,” she said. “I heard other people come upstairs, too, and move about after I went to bed, but I didn’t take any particular notice. I heard the pipes gurgle. I went to sleep almost at once. I was awakened by the sound of voices and boots downstairs, and I sort of knew something was wrong and came out on the landing where I met you.”

“Did you all go up together? You and Miss Lynne and Mrs. Aceworthy?”

“No, we straggled. The Ace-pot went first and I know she had a bath because she was in it when I wanted to brush my teeth. I remember hearing the telephone give our ring just before I came out of this room and I was going to answer it when I heard Fabian speaking. At least, I thought it was Fabian. You see I saw — I thought I saw you whisk out of doors.”

“You saw my overcoat whisk out.”

“Well,” said Ursula, “it’s very dark in the hall.”

She looked fixedly at Alleyn. “You swear he’s all right?”

“He was perfectly comfortable and sound asleep when I left him and he’s safe from any further assault. You can ring up a doctor when the Bureau opens in the morning, indeed I should like to get a medical opinion myself, or — is there anyone near the Pass on your party line?”

“Four miles,” said Douglas.

“If you’re anxious, couldn’t you get these people to drive over the Pass and ring up a doctor? I don’t think it’s necessary but isn’t it possible?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Ursula. “If I could just see him,” she added.

“Very well. When I’ve finished, you may go in with me, wake him up and ask him if he’s all right.”

“You can be rather a pig,” said Ursula, “can’t you?”

“This is a serious matter,” said Alleyn without emphasis.

She flushed delicately and he thought she was startled and bewildered by his disregard of her small attempt at lightness. “I know it is,” she said.

“You heard me answer the telephone, didn’t you, and thought I was Losse? You caught sight of him going out and mistook him for me. What did you do then?”

“I called out ‘Good- night’ to Terry, lit my candle and went upstairs. I undressed and when the Ace-pot came out of the bathroom I washed and brushed my teeth and went to bed.”

“Seeing nobody?”

“Only her — Mrs. Aceworthy.”

“And you, Miss Lynne? You were after Miss Harme?”

She had moved forward and stood behind Ursula. Douglas was close beside her but she seemed to be unaware of him. When he slipped his hand under her arm she freed herself, but with a slight movement as if she loosed a sleeve that had caught on a piece of furniture. She answered Alleyn rapidly, looking straight before her: “It was cold. Douglas had left the French window open. He was on the lawn. I said good-night to him and asked him to put the screen in front of the fire. He called out that he would. I went into the hall and lit my candle. I heard a voice in the study and was not sure if it was yours or Fabian’s. I went up to my room. Douglas came upstairs and tapped on my door. He said good-night. I put away some things I had been mending and then undressed. I heard someone come out of the bathroom, it was Mrs. Aceworthy’s step. Ursula said something to her. I–I read for a minute or two and then I went to the bathroom and returned and got into bed.”

“Did you go to sleep?”

“Not at once.”

“You read, perhaps?”

“Yes. For a — yes, I read.”

“What was your book?”

“Really,” said Ursula impatiently, “can it possibly matter?”

“It was some novel,” said Terence. “I’ve forgotten the title. Some spy story, I think it is.”

“And you were still awake when I came upstairs and spoke to Miss Harme?”

“I was still awake.”

“Yes, your candles were alight. Were you still reading?”

“Yes,” she said, after a pause.

“The spy story must have had some merit,” Alleyn said with a smile. She ran her tongue over her lips.

“Did you hear anyone other than Mrs. Aceworthy and Miss Harme come upstairs?”

“Yes. More than one person. I thought I heard you speaking to Fabian or Douglas. Or it might have been Fabian speaking to Douglas. Your voices are alike.”

“Anyone on the backstairs?”

“I couldn’t hear from my room.”

“Did you use the backstairs at all, during this period, Markins?”

“No, sir,” said Markins woodenly.

“I’d like to hear what Markins was doing,” said Douglas suddenly.

“He has already given me an account of his movements,” Alleyn rejoined. “He was on his way up the back path to the track when he thought he saw me. Later he heard a voice which he mistook for mine. He continued on his way and met nobody. He visited the manager’s cottage and returned. I met him. Together we explored the track and discovered Losse, lying unconscious on the branch track near the wool-shed.”

“So,” said Douglas, raising an extremely obvious eyebrow at Alleyn, “Markins was almost on the spot at the critical time.” Alleyn heard Markins sigh windily. Tommy Johns said quickly: “He was up at our place, Captain, and I talked to him. There’s nothing funny about that.”

“Supposing we take you next, Mr. Johns,” said Alleyn. “Were you at home all the evening?”