Читать книгу The Judgment of Larose - Arthur Gask - Страница 7

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WITH characteristic energy Gilbert Larose at once set about questioning the occupants of the Court, and he dealt with the domestics first.

"I'll let the high and mighty lot cool down a bit before I tackle them," he told himself, "and, besides, its more than probable I shall pick up the first line to start upon from one of the servants."

His first interview was with the butler, and at his request, the interview took place in the latter's bedroom.

"No chance of our being interrupted here, Mr. Slim," he remarked, "and also"—he smiled—"I shall be able to determine in some way what sort of man you are by talking to you among your own surroundings."

The butler was of medium height and build, with a sallow complexion, and rather small, deep-set eyes. He had a straight pointed nose, with a large mouth and tightly closed, thin lips. His hair was straight and very black, and well plastered off his forehead. He looked young for his age, and his demeanour was quiet and respectful.

Larose sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned him to the solitary chair.

"Sit down, Mr. Slim," he said, "and then our little talk will not be quite so formal."

The butler did as he was requested, and a moment's silence followed. Then the detective rapped out:

"Ever been in prison, Mr. Slim?"

The butler's mouth opened and his face assumed a pasty colour. "No, no," went on Larose, "don't get upset. I'm only asking you a question. So you haven't?" He smiled. "Well, don't worry, there's plenty of time yet. You're only forty-four, I've been told, and I knew a man once who didn't hit the jug until he was over seventy." He eyed him very solemnly. "Now, are you hard up? Have you got any money?"

The butler glared. "Yes, plenty," he replied sharply. "I'm not hard up."

"Lucky man!" exclaimed the detective. "Then where have you got your money?"

"In the savings bank."

"Show me your book."

The man looked astounded, and for the moment it seemed as if he were going to refuse, but then, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, he unlocked a cupboard and a box, and finally handed a well-thumbed savings bank book to the detective.

"Hum!" said Larose. "Three hundred and forty-seven pounds seventeen shillings and sixpence, and very nice, too." He ran his finger down the page. "Now, where did you get the forty-five pounds from—deposited June fifteenth?"

The butler was scowling. "I won it at the races," he replied sullenly, "I went to Sandown Park."

"What horse then did you win it on?" asked Larose.

"Several," replied the butler curtly.

"Tell me one," persisted Larose.

For just an appreciable moment the man hesitated. "Queen of Night," he replied, looking very angry.

"Oh!" commented the detective, "and where did that four pounds ten shillings come from on April first, and another four pounds ten shillings on June twenty-eighth? It looks like rent to me, paid in just after quarter days." He turned back the pages of the book. "You have recently bought property then?"

The butler was fidgeting with his feet. "No," he replied emphatically, "I don't own any property. They're just chance amounts that I happened to put in."

Larose regarded the book thoughtfully, and then after a few seconds, handed it back. "How long have you been with the Marley family?" he said.

"Nineteen to twenty years."

"You carry your age well."

"That's no crime," was the reply, and the butler's manner was no longer deferential.

"You're single, I understand?" went on the detective. "Then where do your parents live?"

"I haven't got any," answered the butler, "nor any brothers or sisters," he added, "nor any relations at all."

Larose looked at him sharply. "Nor any friends?" he suggested with possibly just a trace of irony in his tone.

The butter shook his head. "No particular ones." His voice was very surly. "I just keep myself to myself and I mind my own business, too."

"And what are you interested in 'Art Treasures of the World' for?" asked Larose pointing to a shelf. "I notice there's a book up there with that title." He rose to his feet and reached for the book he indicated. "'A Handbook for Collectors'" he remarked, reading the sub-title. "Ah! and quite an up-to-date edition, too! Then you are a student of art as well as a butler?"

"I picked it up cheap, second hand," replied the butler quickly. "I am interested in a great many things and read a lot."

"And this 'Every Man his own Lawyer'" asked the detective, handling an other book—"you are interested in law, too?"

"A little," replied the butler carelessly. "I picked that up second-hand at the same time." He seemed suddenly then about to lose his temper for he added defiantly: "And what's that to do with you?"

But Larose had apparently not heard him, and for a few seconds in a preoccupied sort of way he turned over the pages of the book he was holding in his hand. Then suddenly he put it back upon the shelf and turned again to the butler.

"And now, Mr. Slim," he asked briskly, "what about the murder of Captain Dane? What do you make of it?" And at once it seemed to him that the butler looked relieved and his face brightened.

"I don't make anything of it," he replied. "It's beyond guessing."

"But surely you have formed some idea?" said Larose.

"No, I haven't," was the reply, "I've formed none at all."

Larose raised his hand. "Now look here, Mr. Slim," he said very solemnly. "Perhaps of all here in this house, you, more than any one, are under the suspicion of the police. You are the only manservant, you have the control of the fastening of the doors and windows, and you knew that the captain had two thousand two hundred and fifty pounds in notes in his possession Therefore——"

"I didn't know he had got two thousand two hundred and fifty pounds," interrupted the butler sharply. "I knew he had won something, but I didn't know how much."

Larose shook his head. "Think again, Mr. Slim. You did know for you told the girls in the servants' hall you had heard the gentlemen in the billiard-room talk of the captain having won over two thousand pounds; besides"—and he smiled with great good-humour—"a man with a nose like yours observes and listens to everything. Why—when you took my hat from me in the hall before lunch—you looked at the band inside to see where I'd bought it from, and I'll swear you could tell me every stone in the rings Mrs. Culloden was wearing at lunch. I saw you looking at them several times. No, no, Mr. Slim, you're an observant and intelligent man, and I expect you to help me a lot."

"I'm not a murderer,' said the butler stiffly.

"I don't necessarily think you are," replied Larose, "but I do think, as I have said, that you are quite intelligent and will therefore realise that it is best for you to help me all you can." He eyed him very sternly. "Now looking back to the night of the murder"—he spoke very slowly and deliberately—"can you recall any single incident out of the ordinary, one single thing that you can now link up with the dreadful tragedy that followed?"

"What do you mean?" asked the butler, stonily.

"Was there any unpleasantness between the captain and any of the other guests?"

"None that I am aware of," was the reply; "besides"—and for the first time the butler seemed to have an opinion of his own—"Captain Dane was killed for that money."

"Oh!" commented Larose. "You are sure of it?" And when the butler gave no answer he went on: "Then you believe the murderer came from outside the house?"

The butler avoided his eyes. "I suppose so," he replied slowly. "That's what every one here thinks."

"And how did he get in, then," asked Larose quietly, "if you saw to it that all the doors and windows were fastened that night, and they were found in the same condition the next morning?"

The man looked up at the ceiling. "I have no idea," he replied.

"And what about those dogs, then?" asked Larose."'Would they let a stranger cross over the grounds and give no sign? They didn't see him with the moon almost at its full that night?"

The butler's face was expressionless. "I know nothing about it," he replied. "I've already told you so and it's no good you questioning me."

"But those dogs," persisted Larose, taking no notice of the butler's obvious irritation, "are they savage? Would they let you, for instance, pass unchallenged at night?"

Some animation at last came into he butler's face. "I shouldn't care to try it," he replied grimly. "They are not too good tempered at any time, and they have to be muzzled before they are turned loose at night. But they are big, heavy animals," he added, "and if they were attacking any one, I think it would always be possible that their muzzles might come off."

Larose was silent for a moment, and then he spoke very quietly.

"You're not being straightforward, Mr. Slim, and my opinion is that you are as assured as I am that someone here did the murder"—he shook his head—"but for some reason you are withholding from me any ideas you might be able to express." He rose quickly to his feet. "Well, I understand your things have been searched already," he added, and when the butler nodded scornfully, he walked over to the wardrobe: "Still I'll just have a quick run through myself, if only as a matter of form."

He opened the wardrobe and one by one proceeded to examine the articles of clothing inside, holding each garment up to the light and giving it a rapid scrutiny. The butler sat on in his chair and watched him contemptuously.

"You are a methodical man," commented the detective, "and very tidy. You take care of your things. Hullo! I see you've got two overcoats. More than I have. I can hardly afford one." He stood meditatively regarding an overcoat of a dark grey colour. "Now, this would almost fit me. We are about the same build."

"There are no blood-stains on it," said the butler coldly, "if that's what you're looking for. I shouldn't wear an overcoat in the house."

The detective seemed amused and, having finished his inspection of the wardrobe, turned to the chest of drawers.

"Everything in order here, too. Shirts, singlets, pyjamas, pants," and he lifted the garments lightly and ran his hands over the paper lining the drawers. "Collars, ties, and gloves," he ticked off as if he were making an inventory; "you shouldn't want for anything at all." He suddenly picked out a pair of dark suede gloves from among the others and frowned. "Quite a dandy, Mr. Slim," he remarked after a long moment, "and yet you have remained single for all these years." And then, replacing the gloves thoughtfully, he closed the drawer and looked round the room.

"No, nothing more," he said slowly, "and now I think I'll see the cook. Oh, and you might, please," he added, "just ring up the police station and ask them to send along my portmanteau." He smiled at the man's obvious astonishment. "I shall be staying here for a few days."

"Very good, sir," replied the butler, recovering himself and becoming once again the obsequious attendant upon his master's guests. "I'll attend to it immediately."

Larose was very thoughtful going down the stairs.

"Hum!" he remarked to himself, "there are some very suspicious things about you, Mr. Slim, and you've told me several lies. You're not quite the innocent chap you want to make out, and it's my belief we shall find you're a bit of a crook."

Mrs. Salter, the cook-housekeeper was interviewed in her little sitting-room off the servants hall.

She was tall and gaunt and rather swarthy-looking, and she fixed the detective with a pair of piercing dark eyes.

Larose's eyebrows clicked together. "Now, where have I seen you before?" he asked himself softly. "There's something familiar about your face and you certainly look older than the forty-six you told the inspector. You're a little bit frightened, too." But he smiled pleasantly and said: "Just a little matter of form, Mrs. Salter, for if you knew anything of course you would have told Inspector Roberts at once."

"Yes," she replied, with her lips hardly moving, "of course."

"And you have been with the Marley family a great number of years," asked the detective, "longer than Mr. Slim even?"

"Yes," was the reply again.

"And you heard no noise that night, not a sound?"

"Not a sound."

"And it was a great shock to you the next morning when you were told of the murder?" He snapped out sharply: "Who told you?"

"Betty Yates, one of the parlourmaids. I was in the pantry." Her black eyes glinted sharply. "Yes, it was a great shock."

The detective looked round and lowered his voice confidentially. "Now, you have five girls under you, I understand," he said. "Can you trust them?"

The housekeeper's eyes bored at him like gimlets. "What do you mean?" she asked sharply. "They wouldn't murder any one."

"No, no, not that," exclaimed the detective quickly. "But would any of them have a lover whom they would allow to come into the house?"

The woman looked scornful. "They have plenty of nights of liberty, and every opportunity of doing all they want to—outside," she replied. She snapped her lips together. "There would be no need for any nonsense in here."

"Oh! I didn't mean that," replied the detective quickly and getting rather red, "but what are the men like they are keeping company with?"

"Quite respectable," replied the woman; "at least as far as I know." There was not a trace of humour in her tone. "One of them is a policeman in the town."

Larose repressed a smile. "And your maids are quite reliable then?" he said.

"Four of them—quite," was the reply. "The fifth I know nothing about. She has only been here ten days, and her ladyship engaged her." She pursed up her lips disdainfully. "Plenty to say for herself, but then, that's only like all the girls of today."

"And Mr. Slim," asked the detective hesitatingly. "Quite reliable and——"

"A perfect gentleman," broke in the housekeeper with some heat, "and it was disgraceful the questions that policeman here asked him. A most respectable man, and with money saved. I know everything about him."

"Oh! oh!" thought Larose. "You do, do you? Well, in that case I shall have to bracket you both together, and if one is fishy, then so is the other."

He smiled apologetically. "But we policemen," he said, "often have to put foolish questions just as a matter of duty, and because we're expected to. So you musn't think too hard of us." He looked at his watch. "Now, I think I'll have a word with those girls, and perhaps that Betty Yates had better come in first, as she was the one to find the body."

"Very good, sir," replied the cook. "I'll send her in to you at once." And for the second time during that interview the detective frowned as if he were puzzled.

A minute later the door opened to admit, as Larose was expecting, the maid he had singled out at lunch. She closed the door carefully behind her and advanced briskly into the room. She was alert and vivacious looking, and she smiled brightly at the detective.

"Miss Yates," said Larose, smiling back, "the policeman's daughter?"

"Yes, sir," she replied with a half curtsy, "my father's in the Force, stationed at Dalston."

"A smart officer," said Larose warmly, "and certain of early promotion. He sent me the letter you wrote him—by express this morning—which was most thoughtful."

The smile left the girl's face and she looked confused. "No, no," went on the detective quickly, "it's quite all right, and, of course, I shall treat everything you wrote as confidential. But sit down now, will you?"

The girl did as she was requested, making a brave effort to recover her composure.

"Now, Miss Yates," said Larose, drawing his chair nearer to hers, "I expect great things of you, for you"—he lowered his voice solemnly—"of all the people here, are probably the only one able and willing to help me."

The girl opened her eyes in surprise. "But how can I help you, sir?" Her face brightened. "I'm quite willing, of course."

"In lots of ways," replied the detective quickly, "for although you've only been here ten days, I judge from your letter that you are a girl of thought and observation, and ten days with you will count more than ten months with some of the others." He laid his hand gently upon her arm. "Now I'm going to ask you a lot of questions, and I want you to think carefully before you reply, every time."

The girl flushed in pleasurable excitement, and Larose went on, speaking slowly and with great deliberation.

"Now, when you found the body, tell me exactly what happened. I mean, tell me, action by action, exactly what took place to everyone in those first few moments of surprise. To start off with—you drew the curtains and pulled up the blind, and then looking down saw the body, and realised that the captain was dead."

"Yes," replied the girl; "I saw all the blood on his face, and that it was black and dry, and I knew too from the way he was lying that it wasn't only a faint."

"And you ran out Instantly to fetch Mr. Slim." The detective frowned. "Why Mr. Slim?"

"Because he's a man," replied the girl promptly, "and because"—she hesitated—"he is the most important of all the staff."

"More important than Mrs. Salter?" queried Larose. "I thought she was the housekeeper as well as the cook, and was over all you girls?"

"Y-e-s," replied the parlourmaid slowly, "but then she always does what Mr. Slim says. He is the master in the servants' hall."

"Well, where did you find Mr. Slim?" asked Larose.

"In his pantry. He was smoking a cigarette, and Mrs. Salter had just brought him in a cup of tea and was putting it on the dresser."

"Well, what did you say?" asked Larose. "Exact words, please."

"Captain Dane's been murdered in the billiard-room. He's lying on the floor all covered over in blood!"

"And what did they say? What happened then?" went on Larose sharply.

"Mr. Slim went white as a ghost, and dropped his cigarette, and Mrs. Salter looked awful. She clutched Mr. Slim's arm and gave a cry. She called out 'Oh, Will!' and I thought she was going to faint."

"Go on," said Larose. "Tell me exactly what happened next."

"Mr. Slim went white as a ghost, and ran into the hall. I ran after him, and stood by the billiard-room door when he went in. He stood over the body for a moment, and I think just touched the face once, very quickly. Then he came rushing out, and said: 'The master.' Then he raced upstairs, and I heard him knocking on the master's door. Very quickly, then, it seemed, Sir James came running down, tying up his dressing gown as he ran. They went into the billiard-room and I watched them. Sir James stared for a moment at the body, and then said, as if he were choking: 'Is that door undone?' and Mr. Slim turned the handle of the door in the alcove, and said: 'No.' Then Sir James said: 'Come out and lock the door at once.' Then he ran to the telephone, and I heard him say 'Police.'"

"And what did Mr. Slim do?" asked Larose. He spoke harshly. "It's very important."

"He stood in the hall where I was," replied the parlourmaid, "and he was blinking his eyes and biting his lips."

"Go on," said Larose.

"Then we heard voices on the landing above, and three of the gentlemen came down the stairs, Mr. Wardle, Mr. Rainey, and Dr. Merryweather. They were laughing, and some had got towels over their shoulders. They were going bathing. Sir James strode up and spoke to them, and they stood like statues."

"What did he say?" asked Larose.

"I don't know. He spoke quietly. Then Mr. Wardle cried out: 'Good God!' and Dr. Merryweather said: 'The burglars.' Then Sir James asked Mr. Slim if the hall door was open, and Mr. Slim said it hadn't been unlocked yet. He tried it. Then all went round the windows to see if the house had been robbed, all except Sir James, and he went upstairs to break the news to the others."

"And you stood in the hall the whole time? Well, go on."

"Then Sir James came down to the telephone again and rang up Mr. Binks at the lodge that the gates were not to be opened until the police came."

"What did he say?"

"He asked Mr. Binks if the gates had been unlocked yet, and then he told him on no account to unlock them until a car came up from the police station, and then be sure and lock them at once again. Then very quickly the police came, and after one look in the billiard-room Inspector Roberts rushed into the hall and ordered no one to leave the house until he gave them permission. Every one looked awfully scared, but Dr. Merryweather at once asked if Captain Dane had been robbed, and he told the inspector that there had been two thousand pounds upon him, in notes. Then the doors and windows all over the house were examined again and every one was questioned."

"Who was questioned first?" asked Larose.

"We servants, of course," replied the girl scornfully, "and especially Mr. Slim, and our boxes were searched. From the way the inspector carried on I believe at first that he even suspected me. Then the gentlemen all went into the library, and from their faces when they came out they'd been having an unpleasant time." She shrugged her shoulders. "Since then it always seems that there have always been detectives about the house somewhere."

"Well," said Larose slowly, "from what you tell me you actually saw five people receive their first news of the murder." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Mr. Slim, Mrs. Salter, Mr. Wardle, Mr. Rainey, and Dr. Merryweather," and when the parlourmaid nodded, he asked: "And to you they all seemed surprised?"

"Horrified," exclaimed the girl dramatically; "it was horror—much more than surprise. Of course," she added, "I didn't see the faces of the three gentlemen closely, for when Sir James spoke to them they were some distance away from me, coming down the stairs."

"And you weren't watching them particularly, probably?" asked Larose.

"No-o," replied the girl hesitatingly. "I was too dazed myself." She thought for a moment. "But I am sure their faces were white."

"And Mr. Slim?" persisted Larose.

"He was astonished like a man on the pictures."

"Ah!" exclaimed the detective. "Like a man on the pictures!" He spoke very quietly. "Now when you appeared at the pantry door that morning, if you had not spoken a word, would Mr. Slim have known where you had come from?"

The girl nodded her head. "Yes," she replied slowly, "because I had passed him in the hall a few moments before, as I was turning into the passage that leads into the billiard-room, and he knew it was my first duty to open the windows there."

The face of the detective was quite expressionless. "Well, when you saw Colonel Mead, later, how was he taking it?"

"He was very shaky. I brought him two brandies before lunch. He hardly spoke a word to anyone all day."

"And Mr. Culloden?"

The girl seemed suddenly to remember something. "Ah, he was awfully worried, and never seemed to want to leave his wife. He sat with her in the lounge all the morning, and walked with her in the grounds after lunch. I had no idea they were so fond of each other. He wouldn't let anyone talk to her. She was terribly upset."

"And the other ladies?" asked Larose.

"They were terrified the first day, and even Lady Drews, who seems a hard woman to me, looked haunted, and as frightened as if she had done the murder herself. And Miss Heybridge and Miss Brand—and no one could call them sensitive—were all crumpled up." The girl's eyes brightened. "Her ladyship was the bravest of them all, although she and Sir James must be feeling it more than anyone. The master is such a proud man, and the scandal that has fallen upon the house is, of course, terrible."

Larose was silent for a few moments, and then he nodded his head smilingly.

"Well, I was right, Miss Betty," he said, "and you've given me an excellent word-picture of what happened on that morning of the murder. Now, I want to test your powers of observation much more." His voice was low and solemn. "I want you to think carefully and tell me in what way anyone has altered since that morning." He lifted his hand warningly. "Remember—someone here in this house is a murderer—we are certain there—and that one will have altered in some way. He or she will be very different now. Think. Perhaps more than one is involved, and fear, even terror, must be at the back of their minds. They know we are after them, and day and night, every moment, they must be watchful and upon their guards." He laid his hand again on her arm. "Now, who here is different to what he or she was three days ago?"

The girl's face had paled and she stared at the detective with frightened eyes.

"They are all different," she replied slowly. "They have all altered in some ways."

Larose leant back in his chair and smiled. "Well, tell me the most trivial things that have struck you, little things that may seem of no importance, but yet—may still help me in some way."

The parlourmaid thought hard. "They none of them for one thing now seem quite so friendly with one another," she said. "They don't pair off together like they used to do. Mr. Wardle and Mr. Rainey used to be inseparable and Colonel Mead and Dr. Merryweather, too, but now they sit about by themselves. Then at meal-times I often see Sir James looking round oddly at the other gentlemen, one after another, as if he were wondering about them." She nodded her head. "Yes, he's suspicious of someone, I am sure, for he's had his bed moved out of her ladyship's room into the dressing-room, so that he's nearer the landing now, and can hear anyone moving about in the house, and he's the last one to go to bed, too, at night." She smiled faintly. "That's one of the changes in the house and some others—Mrs. Salter and Mr. Slim whisper a lot together now, and Mr. Slim and Mr. Binks, he's the chauffeur, have quarrelled about something and are not on good terms with one another. Then nearly all the men drink more brandies and sodas than they used to, and Dr. Merryweather goes into the garage a lot and he never used to go there before. Mr. Binks says he is a regular nuisance poking about the cars."

"Go on," said the detective, for she had stopped speaking; "It's all interesting to me."

"And the young ladies use more powder," went on the parlourmaid quickly, "and Lady Drews has stopped putting on her scent—she smelt beautifully before—and everyone wears more jewellery now, as if they were afraid to leave the things in their rooms. Colonel Mead wears a ring with a very big diamond and the others have all taken notice of it. And the key of the dining-room door has got lost somewhere, and everyone writes more letters now, and they never go round in the garden to the billiard-room side of the house, and"—she sighed deeply, as if she were out of breath—"but those are all the things I can remember off-hand."

"And Mr. Slim and Mrs. Salter," said Larose musingly, "they are very friendly together and she calls him 'Will.'"

"Oh, no," replied the girl quickly, "not ordinarily. It's always 'Mr. Slim' again—but she did call him Will then."

"And you like Mr. Slim?" queried the detective. "He's attentive to you girls?"

Miss Betty Yates cast down her eyes demurely. "He's most polite to me, and I do believe"—she hesitated—"sometimes he would like to make up to the other girls, but they've all got their own boy friends and so don't encourage him."

"But he doesn't look to me," said Larose thoughtfully, "as if he would be much interested in the other sex. He's cold and——"

"Oh, don't you make any mistake," interrupted the girl quickly; "he's just like all other men. Why—the very first night I arrived here he came home at supper-time—it had been his weekly day out—a bit fresh—he had had a few drinks, I am sure—and he kissed Alice, that's the girl under me, on the back of her neck. She pushed him away quick and lively and he was angry because she told him that he smelt of paint or something."

"Hum!" commented Larose and it seemed that for quite a long minute he was thinking hard. Then he said slowly:"'So they all keep away from anywhere near the billiard-room, do they?"

"Yes," replied the parlourmaid, "and Mrs. Culloden says it is haunted. She's quite recovered and talks a lot again. She's very morbid in her mind and I heard her ask Inspector Roberts, as a great favour, if she could have a look at the photographs which they had taken of the body, but, of course, he refused. Yes, she's a very peculiar lady."

"She seems very eccentric to me," said Larose.

"She's most absent-minded," went on Betty Yates, "and is always mislaying something. One morning when I came down I found one of her bedroom slippers in the hall"—the girl looked puzzled—"which was funny, because she had gone off early to bed the night before with a headache."

"Oh!" exclaimed the detective quickly, "and what morning was that?"

The parlourmaid smiled. "Before the murder," she replied, "and I think it was last Monday."

"How did you know it was hers?" asked Larose.

"I didn't," said the girl, "but Elsie, one of the housemaids, recognised it and took it up to their room. Mrs. Culloden remembered nothing about it, but Mr. Culloden was very pleased and gave Elsie half a crown and told her not to talk about it, which of course she hasn't done except to me. He must be ashamed because his wife's so careless."

"Does Mrs. Culloden drink?" asked the detective sharply.

"Good gracious, no," replied the parlourmaid. "Why, she's on a diet and never drinks anything but water. She's not even allowed tea or coffee, because the doctors have told her they are bad for her nerves." Betty Yates nodded her head solemnly. "But she takes white pellets to make her sleep. Elsie's seen them and read the directions upon a bottle in her rooms."

"And about this money," asked Larose when he had taken a few moments to absorb the information which the girl had just given him, "you, of course, heard the captain say during dinner that he had actually got two thousand two hundred and fifty pounds in banknotes then in his hip pocket."

"No, he didn't mention the exact sum," replied the girl quickly, "but what happened was this. They had been all talking about his luck at the races when Mrs. Culloden said suddenly: 'But surely you're not carrying all that money about with you now?' and the captain laughed and patted his hip pocket: 'Safer,' he said, 'when all these burglars are about.'" Betty Yates screwed up her eyes. "But do you know, Mr. Larose, I somehow really don't think he was speaking the truth, for I was standing exactly opposite to him and saw him half wink at Mr. Rainey and then glance towards Mr. Slim and us girls." She lowered her voice impressively. "I believe he only wanted to make out he'd got the money on him so that there should be no talk of such a big sum being left in his room."

"Very interesting," said Larose thoughtfully, "very." He smiled and nodded his head. "And I was quite right when I said you were a very observant young lady."

There was a short silence this time, and then the detective stood up. "Well, thank you very much, Miss Yates," he said. "You've helped me a lot and now"—he smiled his friendly smile—"you can help me still more." He lowered his voice. "I want you to keep your eyes and ears open and notice how everyone takes my presence here. You understand. If they look about to see when I'm coming, and if they are different in any way when I'm near." He nodded his head and spoke almost in a whisper. "If they seem to you as if they are on their guard, I mean."

The girl nodded back and he was just about to open the door for her to pass out when he stopped suddenly and said: "But just one more question. Wasn't the captain a great one with the ladies?"

"Oh, yes," replied the parlourmaid at once, "he'd flirt with any one if they played up to him—from Lady Marley"—she hesitated and then smiled archly—"to poor, plain uninteresting me." Her colour heightened and she tossed her head. "But I can take care of myself, I can, for I wasn't in Bishop Highbury's service for two years without learning something. There was always plenty of company there."

Larose smiled in amusement. "And this Captain Dane was very fascinating, wasn't he?"

The girl nodded sadly. "And so good-looking," she replied, "you couldn't help liking him. And he had such nice manners, too." Her face brightened. "Why, when Sir James introduced him to her ladyship the afternoon he arrived, I happened to be in the hall, and he bowed then as if he were being introduced to the queen. It was like a piece on the stage."

"I understand," nodded Larose grimly, "and I suppose then with these good looks and fine manners he wasn't too popular with the men."

"No, of course not," replied the girl. "He could have cut them all out if he had wanted to. I am sure Lady Drews was falling head over heels in love with him, and Mr. Rainey was nothing to Miss Bartholomew when he was near."

"And you wrote your father." said Larose, "that the captain and Mr. Wardle were not friendly. What made you write that?"

"I didn't say they weren't friendly," corrected the girl quickly, "but on Monday afternoon in the lounge, I do believe that for some reason Mr. Wardle was annoyed with him and that Mr. Rainey was, too, for they were both looking in the captain's direction and frowning. And Mr. Wardle said something about if it were him, he'd give someone short shrift."

"And what was the captain doing at that moment?" asked Larose.

The girl laughed. "Talking as usual to some of the ladies, to Miss Bartholomew, Miss Winchester, Lady Marley and I think Miss Wainwright too."

"Ah!" exclaimed the detective, "and they were jealous of course." A long silence followed and then he looked at his watch. "Well, I will have the other girls in now, if you will please ask Mrs. Salter to send them in, one by one. I've a lot to get through."

But the cross-examination of the other girls was very brief for the detective soon decided they had nothing to tell. They all impressed him as being of a good type, and he at once dismissed all ideas that they had any secret about the murder to hide.

He rubbed his hands together, when the last of them had left the room. "Now, a nice medley of facts I've got to sort out," he muttered, "but it'll be hard if I don't pick up something from what Miss Betty has told me. Jove! but I could suspect almost everyone." His face softened. "All except her ladyship perhaps, whose dainty hands could never have struck that blow. And Sir James," he went on musingly, "and the Honourable Culloden too—I needn't worry about them." He shook his head suddenly. "No, I can't even leave out that Scotsman. He's prim and sanctimonious and one of the old school and if he had caught the captain philandering with one of those pretty girls, it is quite possible he might have got so enraged that he went for him after the petticoat had left the room." He shook his head again. "No, no, I can't really leave out anyone yet, not even perhaps as a matter of routine"—he grinned to himself—"my vivacious little colleague, Betty Yates. From all I have been hearing I shouldn't be at all surprised if the gallant captain hadn't tried on a kiss or two in that direction, and maybe if he was so fascinating, not without some measure of success." He rose briskly to his feet. "Well, now for that chauffeur at the lodge. It's quite possible he may hold the key to the mystery, and if he's quarrelled with this butler chap, I'll have to find out why."