Sir Rowland and Jeremy murmured acknowledgements. "Oh, and yes," Clarissa went on as though she had just remembered, "my little stepdaughter." She emphasised "little." "She's in bed and asleep."
"What about servants?" the Inspector wanted to know.
"There are two of them. A married couple. But it's their night out, and they've gone to the cinema in Maidstone."
"I see," said the Inspector, nodding his head gravely.
The door from the hall suddenly opened and Elgin the butler entered, almost colliding with the Constable, who was still keeping guard there. After a quick questioning look at the Inspector, Elgin addressed Clarissa. "Would you be wanting anything, madam?" he asked.
Clarissa looked startled. "I thought you were at the pictures, Elgin," she exclaimed, as the Inspector gave her a sharp glance.
"We returned almost immediately, madam," Elgin explained. "My wife was not feeling well." Sounding embarrassed, he added delicately, "Er – gastric trouble. It must have been something she ate." Looking from the Inspector to the Constable, he asked, "Is anything... wrong?"
"What's your name?" the Inspector asked him.
"Elgin, sir," the butler replied. "I'm sure I hope there's nothing – "
He was interrupted by the Inspector. "Someone rang up the police station and said that a murder had been committed here."
"A murder?" Elgin gasped.
"What do you know about that?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all, sir."
"It wasn't you who rang up, then?" the Inspector asked him.
"No, indeed not."
"When you returned to the house, you came in by the back door – at least I suppose you did?"
"Yes, sir," Elgin replied, nervousness now making him rather more deferential in manner.
"Did you notice anything unusual?"
The butler thought for a moment, and then replied, "Now I come to think of it, there was a strange car standing near the stables."
"A strange car? What do you mean?"
"I wondered at the time whose it might be," Elgin recalled. "It seemed a curious place to leave it."
"Was there anybody in it?"
"Not so far as I could see, sir."
"Go and take a look at it, Jones," the Inspector ordered his constable.
"Jones!" Clarissa exclaimed involuntarily, with a start.
"I beg your pardon," said the Inspector, turning to her.
Clarissa recovered herself quickly. Smiling at him, she murmured, "It's nothing – just – I didn't think he looked very Welsh."
The Inspector gestured to the Constable and to Elgin, indicating that they should go. They left the room together, and a silence ensued. After a moment, Jeremy got up, went across to the sofa, sat and began to eat the sandwiches. The Inspector, who was still carrying his hat and gloves, put them on the armchair, and then, taking a deep breath, addressed the assembled company.
"It seems," he declared, speaking slowly and deliberately, "that someone came here tonight who is unaccounted for." He looked at Clarissa. "You're sure you weren't expecting anyone?" he asked her.
"Oh, no – no," Clarissa replied. "We didn't want anyone to turn up. You see, we were just the four of us for bridge."
"Really?" said the Inspector. "I'm fond of a game of bridge myself."
"Oh, are you?" Clarissa replied. "Do you play Blackwood?"
"I just like a common-sense game," the Inspector told her. "Tell me, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," he continued, "you haven't lived here for very long, have you?"
"No," Clarissa told him. "About six weeks."
The Inspector regarded her steadily. "And there's been no funny business of any kind since you've been living here?" he asked.
Before Clarissa could answer, Sir Rowland interjected. "What exactly do you mean by funny business, Inspector?"
The Inspector turned to address him. "Well, it's rather a curious story, sir," he informed Sir Rowland. "This house used to belong to Mr. Sellon, the antique dealer. He died six months ago."
"Yes," Clarissa remembered. "He had some kind of accident, didn't he?"
"That's right," said the Inspector. "He fell downstairs, pitched on his head." He looked around at Jeremy and Hugo, and added, "Accidental death, they brought in. It might have been that, but it might not."
"Do you mean," Clarissa asked, "that somebody might have pushed him?"
The Inspector turned to her. "That," he agreed, "or else somebody hit him a crack on the head – "
He paused, and the tension among his hearers was palpable. Hugo rose, took a few steps to the desk stool, and sat again. The others froze, and the Inspector went on speaking. "Someone could have arranged Sellon's body to look right, at the bottom of the stairs."
"The staircase here in this house?" Clarissa asked nervously.
"No, it happened at his shop," the Inspector informed her. "There was no conclusive evidence, of course – but he was rather a dark horse, Mr. Sellon."
"In what way, Inspector?" Sir Rowland asked him.
"Well," the Inspector replied, "once or twice there were a couple of things he had to explain to us, as you might say. And the Narcotic Squad came down from London and had a word with him on one occasion..." He paused before continuing, "But it was all no more than suspicion."
"Officially, that is to say," Sir Rowland observed.
The Inspector turned to him. "That's right, sir," he said meaningfully. "Officially."
"Whereas, unofficially... ?" Sir Rowland prompted him.
"I'm afraid we can't go into that," the Inspector replied. He turned to Jeremy and Hugo, and added, "There was, however, one rather curious circumstance. There was an unfinished letter on Mr. Sellon's desk, in which he mentioned that he'd come into possession of something which he described as an unparalleled rarity, which he would..." Here the Inspector paused, and turned back to Sir Rowland before continuing, "... would guarantee wasn't a forgery, and he was asking fourteen thousand pounds for it."
Sir Rowland looked thoughtful. "Fourteen thousand pounds," he murmured. In a louder voice he continued, "Yes, that's a lot of money indeed. Now, I wonder what it could be? Jewellery, I suppose, but the word 'forgery' suggests – I don't know, a picture, perhaps?"
Jeremy continued to munch at his sandwiches as the Inspector replied, "Yes, perhaps. There was nothing in the shop worth such a large sum of money. The insurance inventory made that clear. Mr. Sellon's partner was a woman who has a business of her own in London, and she wrote and said she couldn't give us any help or information."
Sir Rowland nodded his head slowly. "So he might have been murdered, and the article, whatever it was, stolen," he suggested.
"It's quite possible, sir," the Inspector agreed, "but again, the would-be thief may not have been able to find it."
"Now, why do you think that?" Sir Rowland asked.
"Because," the Inspector replied, "the shop has been broken into twice since then. Broken into and ransacked."
Clarissa looked puzzled. "Why are you telling us all this, Inspector?" she wanted to know.
"Because, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," said the Inspector, turning to her, "it's occurred to me that whatever was hidden away by Mr. Sellon may have been hidden here in this house, and not at his shop in Maidstone. That's why I asked you if anything peculiar had come to your notice."
Holding up a hand as though she had suddenly remembered, Clarissa said excitedly, "Somebody rang up only today and asked to speak to me, and when I came to the phone, whoever it was had just hung up. In a way, that's rather odd, isn't it?" She turned to Jeremy, adding, "Oh, yes, of course. You know, that man who came the other day and wanted to buy things – a horsy sort of man in a check suit. He wanted to buy that desk."
The Inspector crossed the room to look at the desk. "This one here?" he asked.
"Yes," Clarissa replied. "I told him, of course, that it wasn't ours to sell, but he didn't seem to believe me. He offered me a large sum, far more than it's worth."
"That's very interesting," the Inspector commented as he studied the desk. "These things often have a secret drawer, you know."
"Yes, this one has," Clarissa told him. "But there was nothing very exciting in it. Only some old autographs."
The Inspector looked interested. "Old autographs can be immensely valuable, I understand," he said. "Whose were they?"
"I can assure you, Inspector," Sir Rowland informed him, "that these weren't anything rare enough to be worth more than a pound or two."
The door to the hall opened, and the Constable entered, carrying a small booklet and a pair of gloves.
"Yes, Jones? What is it?" the Inspector asked him.
"I've examined the car, sir," Constable Jones replied.
"Just a pair of gloves in the driving seat. But I found this registration book in the side pocket." He handed the book to the Inspector, and Clarissa exchanged a smile with Jeremy as they heard the Constable's strong Welsh accent.
The Inspector examined the registration book. "Oliver Costello, twenty-seven Morgan Mansions, London SW3," he read aloud. Then, turning to Clarissa, he asked sharply, "Has a man called Costello been here today?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE INSPECTOR'S question caused the four friends to cast guiltily furtive glances at one another. Clarissa and Sir Rowland both looked as though they were about to attempt an answer, but it was Clarissa who spoke. "Yes," she admitted. "He was here about – " She paused, and then, "let me see," she continued. "Yes, it was about half past six."
"Is he a friend of yours?" the Inspector asked her.
"No, I wouldn't call him a friend," Clarissa replied. "I had met him only once or twice." She deliberately assumed an embarrassed look, and then said hesitantly, "It's – a little awkward, really..." She looked appealingly at Sir Rowland, as though passing the ball to him.
That gentleman was quick to respond to her unspoken request. "Perhaps, Inspector," he said, "it would be better if I explained the situation."
"Please do, sir," was the Inspector's somewhat tersely spoken response.
"Well," Sir Rowland continued, "it concerns the first Mrs. Hailsham-Brown. She and Hailsham-Brown were divorced just over a year ago, and recently she married Mr. Oliver Costello."
"I see," observed the Inspector. "And Mr. Costello came here today." He turned to Clarissa. "Why was that?" he asked. "Did he come by appointment?"
"Oh, no," Clarissa replied glibly. "As a matter of fact, when Miranda and my husband divorced, she took with her one or two things that weren't really hers. Oliver Costello happened to be in this part of the world, and he just looked in to return them."
"What kind of things?" the Inspector asked quickly.
Clarissa was ready for this question. "Nothing very important," she said with a smile. Picking up the small silver cigarette box from a table by the sofa, she held it out to the Inspector. "This was one of them," she told him. "It belonged to my husband's mother, and he values it for sentimental reasons."
The Inspector looked at Clarissa reflectively for a moment, before asking her, "How long did Mr. Costello remain here when he came at six-thirty?"
"Oh, a very short time," she replied as she replaced the cigarette box on the table. "He said he was in a hurry. About ten minutes, I should think. No longer than that."
"And your interview was quite amicable?" the Inspector inquired.
"Oh, yes," Clarissa assured him. "I thought it was very kind of him to take the trouble to return the things."
The Inspector thought for a moment, before asking, "Did he mention where he was going when he left here?"
"No," Clarissa replied. "Actually, he went out by that window," she continued, gesturing towards the French windows. "As a matter of fact, my lady gardener, Miss Peake, was here, and she offered to show him out through the garden."
"Your gardener – does she live on the premises?" the Inspector wanted to know.
"Well, yes. But not in the house. She lives in the cottage."
"I think I should like a word with her," the Inspector decided. He turned to the Constable. "Jones, go and get her from the cottage," he ordered.
"There's a telephone connection through to the cottage. Shall I get her for you, Inspector?" Clarissa offered.
"If you would be so kind, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," the Inspector replied.
"Not at all," Clarissa murmured. She went to the telephone and lifted the receiver, while the Inspector gestured to the Constable indicating that he should stay in the room.
"I don't suppose she'll have gone to bed yet," Clarissa said, pressing a knob on the telephone. She flashed a smile at the Inspector, who responded by looking bashful. Jeremy smiled to himself and took another sandwich.
Clarissa spoke into the telephone. "Hello, Miss Peake. This is Mrs. Hailsham-Brown... I wonder, would you mind coming over? Something rather important has happened... Oh, yes, of course that will be all right. Thank you."
She replaced the receiver and turned to the Inspector. "Miss Peake has been washing her hair, but she'll get dressed and come right over."
"Thank you," said the Inspector. "After all, Costello may have mentioned to her where he was going."
"Yes, indeed, he may have," Clarissa agreed.
