The Inspector looked puzzled. "The question that bothers me," he announced to the room in general, "is why Mr. Costello's car is still here, and where is Mr. Costello?"
Clarissa gave an involuntary glance towards the bookshelves and the panel, then walked across to the French windows to watch for Miss Peake. Jeremy, noticing her glance, sat back innocently and crossed his legs as the Inspector continued, "Apparently this Miss Peake was the last person to see him. He left, you say, by that window. Did you lock it after him?"
"No," Clarissa replied, standing at the window with her back to the Inspector.
"Oh?" the Inspector queried.
Something in his tone made Clarissa turn to face him. "Well, I – I don't think so," she said hesitantly.
"So he might have re-entered that way," the Inspector observed. He took a deep breath and announced importantly, "I think, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown, that, with your permission, I should like to search the house."
"Of course," Clarissa replied with a friendly smile. "Well, you've seen this room. Nobody could be hidden here." She held the window curtains open for a moment, as though awaiting Miss Peake, and then exclaimed, "Look! Through here is the library." Going to the library door and opening it, she suggested, "Would you like to go in there?"
"Thank you," said the Inspector. "Jones!" he called to the Constable, and the two police officers went into the library. As they did so, the Inspector added, "Just see where that door leads to, Jones," gesturing towards another door immediately inside the library.
"Very good, sir," the Constable replied, as he went through the door indicated.
As soon as the police officers were out of earshot, Sir Rowland got up and strode quickly across to the panel. "What's on the other side?" he asked Clarissa, gesticulating.
"Bookshelves," she replied tersely.
Sir Rowland nodded and strolled nonchalantly across to the sofa, as the Constable's voice was heard calling, "Just another door through to the hall, sir."
The two officers returned from the library. "Right," said the Inspector. He looked at Sir Rowland, apparently taking note of the fact that he had moved. "Now we'll search the rest of the house," he announced, going to the hall door.
"I'll come with you, if you don't mind," Clarissa offered, "in case my little stepdaughter should wake up and be frightened. Not that I think she will. It's extraordinary how deeply children can sleep. You have to practically shake them awake."
As the Inspector opened the hall door, she asked him, "Have you got any children, Inspector?"
"One boy and one girl," he replied shortly, as he made his way out of the room, crossed the hall, and began to ascend the stairs.
"Isn't that nice?" Clarissa observed. She turned to the Constable. "Mr. Jones," she invited him with a gesture to precede her. He made his way out of the room and she followed him closely.
As soon as they had gone, the three remaining occupants of the room looked at one another. Hugo wiped his hands and Jeremy mopped his forehead. "And now what?" Jeremy asked, taking another sandwich.
Sir Rowland shook his head. "I don't like this," he told them. "We're getting in very deep."
"If you ask me," Hugo advised him, "there's only one thing to do. Come clean. Own up now before it's too late."
"Damn it, we can't do that," Jeremy exclaimed. "It would be too unfair to Clarissa."
"But we'll get her in a worse mess if we keep on with this," Hugo insisted. "How are we ever going to get the body away? The police will impound the fellow's car."
"We could use mine," Jeremy suggested.
"Well, I don't like it," Hugo persisted. "I don't like it at all. Damn it, I'm a local J. P. I've got my reputation with the police here to consider." He turned to Sir Rowland. "What do you say, Roly? You've got a good level head."
Sir Rowland looked grave. "I admit I don't like it," he replied, "but personally I am committed to the enterprise."
Hugo looked perplexed. "I don't understand you," he told his friend.
"Take it on trust, if you will, Hugo," said Sir Rowland. He looked gravely at both men and continued, "We're in a very bad jam, all of us. But if we stick together and have reasonable luck, I think there's a chance we may be able to pull it off."
Jeremy looked as though he was about to say something, but Sir Rowland held up a hand and went on, "Once the police are satisfied that Costello isn't in this house, they'll go off and look elsewhere. After all, there are plenty of reasons why he might have left his car and gone off on foot." He gestured towards them both and added, "We're all respectable people – Hugo's a J. P., as he's reminded us, and Henry Hailsham-Brown's high up in the Foreign Office – "
"Yes, yes, and you've had a blameless and even distinguished career, we know all that," Hugo intervened. "All right, then, if you say so, we brazen it out."
Jeremy rose to his feet and nodded towards the recess. "Can't we do something about that straightaway?" he asked.
"There's no time now," Sir Roland decreed tersely. "They'll be back any minute. He's safer where he is."
Jeremy nodded his head in reluctant agreement. "I must say Clarissa's a marvel," he observed. "She doesn't turn a hair. She's got that police inspector eating out of her hand."
The front door bell suddenly rang. "That'll be Miss Peake, I expect," Sir, Rowland announced. "Go and let her in, Warrender, would you?"
Jeremy went to do as he was bidden. As soon as he had left the room, Hugo beckoned to Sir Rowland, who went over to him.
"What's up, Roly?" Hugo asked in an urgent whisper. "What did Clarissa tell you when she got you to herself?"
Sir Rowland began to speak, but, hearing the voices of Jeremy and Miss Peake exchanging greetings at the front door, he made a gesture indicating "Not now."
"I think you'd better come in here," Jeremy told Miss Peake as he slammed the front door shut. A moment later, the gardener preceded him into the drawing-room, looking as though she had dressed very hastily. She wore a towel around her head.
"What is all this?" she wanted to know. "Mrs. Hailsham-Brown was most mysterious on the phone. Has anything happened?"
Sir Rowland addressed her with the utmost courtesy. "I'm so sorry you've been routed out like this, Miss Peake," he apologised. "Do sit down," he invited her, indicating a chair by the bridge table.
Hugo pulled the chair out for Miss Peake, who thanked him. He then sat himself in a more comfortable easy chair, while Sir Rowland informed the gardener, "As a matter of fact, we've got the police here, and – "
"The police?" Miss Peake interrupted, looking startled. "Has there been a burglary?"
"No, not a burglary, but – "
He stopped speaking as Clarissa, the Inspector and the Constable came back into the room. Jeremy sat on the sofa, while Sir Rowland took up a position behind it.
"Inspector," Clarissa announced, "this is Miss Peake."
The Inspector went across to the gardener. His "Good evening, Miss Peake" was accompanied by a stiff little bow.
"Good evening, Inspector," Miss Peake replied. "I was just asking Sir Rowland – has there been a robbery, or what?"
The Inspector regarded her searchingly, allowed a moment or two to elapse, and then spoke. "We received a rather peculiar telephone call which brought us out here," he told her. "And we think that perhaps you might be able to clear up the matter for us."
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE INSPECTOR'S announcement was greeted by Miss Peake with a jolly laugh. "I say, this is mysterious. I am enjoying myself," she exclaimed delightedly.
The Inspector frowned. "It concerns Mr. Costello," he explained. "Mr. Oliver Costello of twenty-seven Morgan Mansions, London SW3. I believe that's in the Chelsea area."
"Never heard of him," was Miss Peake's robustly expressed response to this.
"He was here this evening, visiting Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," the Inspector reminded her, "and I believe you showed him out through the garden."
Miss Peake slapped her thigh. "Oh, that man," she recalled. "Mrs. Hailsham-Brown did mention his name." She looked at the Inspector with a little more interest. "Yes, what do you want to know?" she asked.
"I should like to know," the Inspector told her, speaking slowly and deliberately, "exactly what happened, and when you last saw him."
Miss Peake thought for a moment before replying. Then, "Let me see," she said. "We went out through the French windows, and I told him there was a short cut if he wanted the bus, and he said no, he'd come in his car, and he'd left it round by the stables."
She beamed at the Inspector as though she expected to be praised for her succinct recollection of what had occurred, but he merely looked thoughtful as he commented, "Isn't that rather an odd place to leave a car?"
"That's just what I thought," Miss Peake agreed, slapping the Inspector's arm as she spoke. He looked surprised at this, but she continued, "You'd think he'd drive right up to the front door, wouldn't you? But people are so odd. You never know what they're going to do." She gave a hearty guffaw.
"And then what happened?" the Inspector asked.
Miss Peake shrugged her shoulders. "Well, he went off to his car, and I suppose he drove away," she replied.
"You didn't see him do so?"
"No – I was putting my tools away," was the gardener's reply.
"And that's the last you saw of him," the Inspector asked with emphasis.
"Yes, why?"
"Because his car is still here," the Inspector told her.
Speaking slowly and emphatically, he continued, "A phone call was put through to the police station at seven forty-nine, saying that a man had been murdered at Copplestone Court."
Miss Peake looked appalled at this. "Murdered?" she exclaimed. "Here? Ridiculous!"
"That's what everybody seems to think," the Inspector observed drily, with a significant look at Sir Rowland.
"Of course," Miss Peake went on, "I know there are all these maniacs about, attacking women – but you say a man was murdered – "
The Inspector cut her short. "You didn't hear another car this evening?" he asked brusquely.
"Only Mr. Hailsham-Brown's," she replied.
"Mr. Hailsham-Brown?" the Inspector queried with a rise of his eyebrows. "I thought he wasn't expected home till late."
His glance swung round to Clarissa, who hastened to explain. "My husband did come home, but he had to go out again almost immediately."
The Inspector assumed a deliberately patient expression. "Oh, is that so?" he commented in a tone of studied politeness. "Exactly when did he come home?"
"Let me see..." Clarissa began to stammer. "It must have been about..."
"It was about a quarter of an hour before I went off duty," Miss Peake interjected. "I work a lot of overtime, Inspector. I never stick to regulation hours," she explained. "Be keen on your job, that's what I say," she continued, thumping the table as she spoke. "Yes, it must have been about a quarter past seven when Mr. Hailsham-Brown got in."
"That would have been shortly after Mr. Costello left," the Inspector observed. He moved to the centre of the room, and his manner changed almost imperceptibly as he continued, "He and Mr. Hailsham-Brown probably passed each other."
"You mean," Miss Peake said thoughtfully, "that he may have come back again to see Mr. Hailsham-Brown."
"Oliver Costello definitely didn't come back to the house," Clarissa cut in sharply.
"But you can't be sure of that, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," the gardener contradicted her. "He might have got in by that window without your knowing anything about it." She paused, and then exclaimed, "Golly! You don't think he murdered Mr. Hailsham-Brown, do you? I say, I am sorry."
"Of course he didn't murder Henry," Clarissa snapped irritably.
"Where did your husband go when he left here?" the Inspector asked her.
"I've no idea," Clarissa replied shortly.
"Doesn't he usually tell you where he's going?" the Inspector persisted.
"I never ask questions," Clarissa told him. "I think it must be so boring for a man if his wife is always asking questions."
Miss Peake gave a sudden squeal. "But how stupid of me," she shouted. "Of course, if that man's car is still here, then he must be the one who's been murdered." She roared with laughter.
Sir Rowland rose to his feet. "We've no reason to believe anyone has been murdered, Miss Peake," he admonished her with dignity. "In fact, the Inspector believes it was all some silly hoax."
Miss Peake was clearly not of the same opinion. "But the car," she insisted. "I do think that car still being here is very suspicious." She got up and approached the Inspector. "Have you looked about for the body, Inspector?" she asked him eagerly.
"The Inspector has already searched the house," Sir Rowland answered before the police officer had a chance to speak. He was rewarded by a sharp glance from the Inspector, whom Miss Peake was now tapping on the shoulder as she continued to air her views.
"I'm sure those Elgins have something to do with it – the butler and that wife of his who calls herself a cook," the gardener assured the Inspector confidently. "I've had my suspicions of them for quite some time. I saw a light in their bedroom window as I came along here just now. And that in itself is suspicious. It's their night out, and they usually don't return until well after eleven." She gripped the Inspector's arm. "Have you searched their quarters?" she asked him urgently.
