The inquiries made by Inspector Hemingway in Stilhurst village were fruitless. The only person who seemed to have seen Vicky's sports-car draw up outside the doctor's house had such hazy ideas of the time that Hemingway gave him up in disgust. He was about to get into the police-car again when the constable nodded towards a car which had drawn up outside the post office. "That's the doctor," he said.
Hemingway did not follow Chester into the post office, which was also the grocery, but waited by his car until he returned to it. When he presently made himself known to Chester, the doctor showed no surprise, but merely asked in what way he could be of use.
"Well, sir, I'm checking up on certain times," Hemingway explained. "If you can tell me when you got back to your house on Sunday afternoon, it might help me a lot."
"I'm sorry, I don't think I can. It was some time after five - possibly nearly half past five, for I was kept longer than I had foreseen.
"Thank you," said the Inspector, with a comical look that drew a smile from Chester.
"I'm really very sorry. Hullo, Hugh!"
The Inspector turned, as Hugh Dering came strolling across the street. Dr Chester said: "You seem to have consituted yourself legal adviser up at Palings, so perhaps you'd like to be introduced to Inspector Hemingway, from Scotland Yard. This is Mr. Dering, Inspector."
The Inspector had an excellent memory, and he said at once: "Are you the gentleman who arrived at Palings shortly after the murder?"
"Me," said Hugh cheerfully. "Don't ask me if I'm sure I didn't see a suspicious stranger, because I don't think I can bear it! Are you on your way to Palings now? Can I give you a lift? My car's just down the street."
"Well, that's very kind of you, sir. I'll be glad to go along with you. I'll just have a word with my Sergeant, if you'll wait a minute."
Hugh nodded, and watched him walk over to the police-car. "I hoped this wasn't going to happen," he remarked.
"It was bound to. The gentleman from Scotland Yard seems a decent chap, however. How are they, up at Palings?"
"I haven't been there today. They were all right last night. I suppose you've heard that one of the late Fanshawe's rifles was found in the shrubbery?"
"Yes, I'd heard, but I don't know that I set much store by it."
The Inspector, having given his Sergeant certain instructions, came walking back to them, and went off down the street with Hugh to where Hugh's car was parked.
"Nasty case, Inspector," said Hugh, opening the door for him.
"Oh, I don't know about that, sir!" Hemingway replied. "It's got some very classy features, besides showing me a bit of real high life. Foreign princes," he added, as Hugh looked a trifle mystified.
Hugh laughed, and got into the car beside him. "I hope you'll find him up to standard. Have you got a sense of humour?"
An intelligent eye was cocked at him. "Will I need one?"
"Absolutely essential. Your predecessor suffered from a total lack of it."
"I can see it's a fortunate thing I met you," said the Inspector. "I'm not like some detectives: I'm grateful for a bit of help. Matter of fact, I came with you because there's something I shouldn't be at all surprised if you could put me right on."
"What is it?" asked Hugh, letting in his clutch.
"How do you pronounce this Prince's unnatural name?"
Hugh grinned appreciatively. "It's a privilege to know you, Inspector. Varasashvili."
The Inspector sighed. "Wonderful what foreigners can get their tongues round, isn't it? Now, don't you drive too fast, sir, because I'm a very nervous man. Besides, it isn't often I get a free ride, and I'm enjoying myself."
"Also you want to take in the features of the countryside," said Hugh, slowing to a sedate pace.
"That's right, I do," replied the Inspector. "Decor and scenery are my specialities. Where would this road lead to, supposing we were to follow it?"
"To Kershaw, eventually. But we turn off to the right."
"I remember that. How long do you reckon it takes you to drive from Palings to Stilhurst?"
"Ten minutes, possibly a little less."
"You're very helpful," said the Inspector. "Whereabouts is Oaklands Farm?"
"Towards Kershaw. Do you want me to take you there?"
"No, but it's put me in mind of another thing I want to ask you. They tell me you were at that shoot on Saturday. What do you reckon were the rights of that little mix-up?"
"Oh, lord, are you on to that?" said Hugh. "I don't believe it has the least bearing on the case. Carter was just the sort of vague ass who would stray about and get himself shot."
"Is that so? Well, it's a wonder to me there aren't more accidents at shoots. Where does that lane lead to?"
"A farm. It's a dead end."
"Oh! Not much traffic down it?"
"None at all on a Sunday." Hugh cast him a flickering smile. "Quite safe to park a car there."
The Inspector shook his head admiringly. "It's wonderful the way you read what's in my mind, sir."
The gates of the Dower House came into sight upon the left-hand side of the road, and beyond them the little humpbacked bridge over the stream. The lane curved away to the right, and the Inspector inquired whether they were running beside the grounds of Palings. Hugh nodded, and presently pointed out the entrance to the garage. Fifty yards on, he turned the car in at the main gate, andd drove up the neat avenue to the front door.
"Well, here we are," Hugh said. He got out of the car, and was just about to ring the bell when Vicky came round the corner of the house. "You can prepare yourself for the first shock, Inspector," he said. "Hullo, Vicky! Gone into half-mourning?"
Vicky, who was wearing a frock of white organdie with an artless sash of black velvet ribbon with immensely long ends, replied: "Oh, I think white is so suitable for a young girl don't you? I began to feel like Anna Karenina, so I changed, because it was all very exhausting."
The Inspector had climbed out of the car, and was regarding Vicky with frank approbation. Hugh said: "Let me introduce Inspector Hemingway, of Scotland Yard, Miss Fanshawe."
"From Scotland Yard?" repeated Vicky, turning a face of the deepest reproach towards Hugh. "What a viprous thing to do! Oh, I think you're the most repellent creature I've ever met! In fact, not merely sub-human, but a snake and a traitor as well!"
"One of your dramatic days, I see," said Hugh, quite unmoved. "Don't mind the Inspector, will you? And get it out of your head that I sent for him: all I did was to give him a lift from the village."
"Just when Ermyntrude's been upset again!" Vicky said. She looked critically at Hemingway, and suddenly bestowed an unexpectedly beguiling smile upon him. "Oh, I like you more than Inspector Cook! Has he told you about my being practically on the scene of the crime? Isn't it ghoulish?"
"He told me that you didn't hear or see anything unusual," replied Hemingway diplomatically. "Nor yet your dog either." He glanced at the black ribbon which she had tied round her head to keep the feathery curls in position. "What I'm wondering is whether you happened to lose a hair-slide in the shrubbery at any time?"
"No, I don't wear them. I think they're definitely unlovely. Do you want to see my mother?"
"Yes, please. But are you quite sure this isn't yours?"
Vicky looked at the hair-slide he was holding in the palm of his hand. "How touching! Absolutely Mother's Good Girl, isn't it? Not one of my acts."
She evidently had no further interest in the slide, so the Inspector put it back in his pocket, and followed her into the house.
Ermyntrude was sitting in the drawing-room with Mary. A number of daily periodicals were piled untidily on a low table beside her, and as soon as she saw Hugh, she exclaimed: "Well, if you're not the very person I was hoping would look in on us! To my mind, it's practically libel, and if I can't sue them there's no justice in England. Look at that!"
Hugh took the newspaper that was being thrust at him. A most unflattering portrait of Prince Varasashvili met his eye, and nearly surprised a laugh out of him.
"'Mrs. Carter's distinguished Russian guest"!" quoted Ermyntrude bitterly. "If they'd said it was Mrs. Carter's boot-boy, it would have been more likely, except that I wouldn't have a boot-boy that looked like a cross between an organ-grinder and a gangster! No, really, Hugh, I am put out! What's more, Alexis particularly told them he was a Georgian, not that it makes a bit of difference to my mind, but you know how touchy foreigners are!" She broke off, perceiving Hemingway, and demanded suspiciously: "Who's that?"
"Darling Ermyntrude, it's an Inspector from Scotland Yard," said Vicky. "His name is Hemingway, and he's rather a lamb, except for nourishing degrading suspicions about me."
The Inspector was startled. "I never!" he said.. "Now, that's not fair, miss!"
"Hair-slides," said Vicky reproachfully. "I call that utterly degrading."
"Scotland Yard!" ejaculated Ermyntrude, letting fall the second newspaper, which she had been holding out to Hugh. "Am I never to be left in peace? Haven't I had enough to worry me? I wish to God Wally had never been shot!"
Inspector Hemingway at once won Hugh's respect by his instant grasp of the situation. He responded promptly: "I'm sure I'm not surprised. But don't you get thinking I've come to badger you, madam, because I'm a feeling man myself, and I know just how you feel. You've had reporters pestering you, have you? Regular body-snatchers, that's what they are. So this is the Prince! Well, I must say I wouldn't have thought it!"
Ermyntrude wrested the paper from his grasp. "It's nothing like him! What's all this about your suspecting my girl? I never heard of such a thing!"
"That was just Miss Fanshawe trying to have a little game with me," replied the Inspector. "As a matter of fact, it wasn't Miss Fanshawe I came to see. It wasn't, strictly speaking, you either, madam, but I'm sure it's a pleasure. Ever see that before?" He held out the hair-slide as he spoke.
"Nasty, cheap thing!" said Ermyntrude, after a cursory glance at it.
"Can I see it?" asked Mary. "I sometimes wear one."
The Inspector held it out to her. She looked at it, and shook her head. "No, it's not one of mine. Who is it you wish to see, Inspector?"
"The Prince, miss, if you please."
"Well, I suppose it's no good my trying to stop you," said Ermyntrude. "The way you policemen behave, anyone would think the house belonged to you! Oh Hugh, you know all about the law! Have they got to go worrying Alexis? I can't bear it if on top of everything else they get him all upset, which is what they very likely will do, for he's very sensitive, and what with that photograph, and the papers getting his name wrong, and one of them calling him a Baron instead of a Prince, he's very put-out already."
"I'm afraid," began Hugh, but broke off short, as the object of this discussion stepped in through the French window. "Here is the Prince, Inspector."
The Prince's smile faded; he threw up his hands, exclaiming: "Ah, not more police! It becomes too much! My poor Trudinka, you are distressed: they have been worrying you again! You should have sent for me immediately!"
"I'm sure that's just like you, Alexis, always so thoughtful and sweet to me!" said Ermyntrude warmly. "I was going to send for you, too, because it's you the Inspector wants to see."
The Prince raised his brows. "Yes? I am at your disposal Inspector, though what more I can say I do not know. I have told all I know. I must confess I do not understand these English methods. What do you want with me?"
"Well, I'd like a little chat with you alone, sir," said Hemingway.
"I'm sure you needn't be so anxious to keep me in the dark!" said Ermyntrude. "I'd like to know who had a bigger right to know what's going on! What's more, I dare say I can answer your questions a lot better than the Prince can. It stands to reason!"
"Yes, but I'm funny like that," returned Hemingway, quite unruffled. "When I ask one person a question I get muddled in my head if half a dozen other people start answering."
"But naturally I will go apart with you, my dear Inspector!" said the Prince, recovering his smile. "Come! I am at your service!"
He bowed the Inspector out of the room, and took him across the hall to the library. As he closed the door, he said: "You do not wish me to repeat my evidence, that is certain. You wish to question me about the affair at the shoot on Saturday. But it is absurd! I must tell you at once that for myself l do not believe that it was anything but a foolish accident. That Mr. Steel would fire with deliberation upon Mr. Carter I find ridiculous. It is not possible. I cannot discuss such a piece of nonsense."
"That's right, sir, and very handsomely spoken, I'm sure," said the Inspector. "I won't ask you anything at all about it."
"Ah!" said the Prince, rather taken aback. "You are a sensible man, I perceive. You do not set any store by the strange suspicions of poor Mr. Carter. I can speak openly to you, in effect."
"That's just what I hope you will do, sir. I can see we shall get along fine. All I want you to tell me is what time it was when you arrived at the doctor's house on Sunday?"
"But, my friend, I have told already once! It was at five minutes to five."
"And how did you happen to know that, sir?"
The Prince shrugged. "I was too early. The doctor was not in, and when I looked at the time I found it was not then five o'clock. It is very simple! The housekeeper will uphold me, for we spoke of the time together."
"Yes," said the Inspector mildly. "She said she remembered it distinctly, on account of your showing her your watch."
"Did I? It may well have been so."
"I wonder if I might have a look at that watch of yours, sir?"
"But certainly!" The Prince extended his wrist.
The Inspector glanced at his own watch. "Thank you, sir. Do you find it keeps good time? They tell me those fancy ones very often don't."
"Excellent time. You would say that I was not at Dr Chester's house before five? Is that it, may I ask?"
"Oh no! I wouldn't say that at all, sir! Not unless I was sure of my facts, that is," he added thoughtfully. "Still, watches do lose sometimes, and we have to be so careful in the Department, you know. So I've set a couple of my people on to see if they can't find someone to corroborate your statement."
The Prince said in rather a high-pitched voice: "This is to insult me! Am I then suspected of having murdered my host? It is iniquitous! It is, in fact, quite laughable, when one considers that it is not I who have the motive for killing that unfortunate! I do not pretend to know anything, but I find it strange that the poor foreigner must be suspected rather than a man who has been detested by Carter; or than Miss Cliffe, who inherits Carter's fortune; or than - for one must be frank - Miss Fanshawe, who was on the spot, and knows well how to handle a gun!"
"You've got me quite wrong, sir," said the Inspector. "I've got a natural mistrust of watches, that's all. Yes, what do you want?"
This question was addressed to the butler, who had come into the room. Peake said stiffly that Sergeant Wake wished to speak to him.
"You can send him in here," replied the Inspector, adding kindly to the Prince: "I dare say he's found someone to corroborate your evidence, sir. He's a very able young fellow, my Sergeant."
Sergeant Wake, however, had not found any such person. He had found instead the son of the local publican, who had informed him that he had been out walking with his young lady on Sunday afternoon, along the road from Stilhurst to Kershaw, and had seen Miss Fanshawe's car, with a strange gentleman at the wheel, travelling towards the village just after five o'clock.
"It's a lie! I denounce it!" exclaimed the Prince, grasping the back of a chair.
"Well, and what makes him so sure it was after five?" inquired the Inspector.
"He states that both him and his young lady had heard the village church clock strike the hour about ten minutes before," replied Wake. "Very positive, he is."
Inspector Hemingway looked at the Prince. "I had a notion all along that watch of yours wasn't to be trusted,"
he remarked. "What you might call a hunch. We shall have to rub it all out and start again. Suppose, sir, you were to talk to me openly, just like you said you would?"
"It is not true. I dispute it! If my watch can lose so, why then is it now correct?"
"Would it be because you've set it right?" suggested the Inspector helpfully.
The Prince glared at him. "You take the word of an ignorant country fellow before mine? You are insolent, my friend, and I resent it!"
"Yes, well, we'll get along a sight better, sir, if you don't waste my time with that kind of talk. What I want to know is just what you were doing in between the time you left this house, which, by all accounts, can't have been later than a quarter-to-five, and the time you arrived at the doctor's house."
"I should be accustomed to persecution!" the Prince said, with a dramatic gesture. "My God, have I not been persecuted enough already by the Bolsheviki?"
"No knowing, I can't say, sir, but you won't get persecuted by Bolsheviks in this country, that I do know; though if you refuse to answer my questions you stand a very good chance of ending up inside a police cell."
"I did not know that my watch was slow!" the Prince cried. "It was in innocence that I showed it to that woman! What would you? Do I know this place? Was I conducted to the doctor's house? It is not easy to remember exactly what is told one! Of the murder I know nothing! But nothing!"
"Oh! So you admit that your watch was slow, sir?"
"It was slow, yes, but I did not then know it! Listen, for I will tell you all! It is true that I left this house at a quarter-to-five. I asked of Mr. Carter the way to the doctor's house, and he told me, but I forget. I remember that I shall come to a T-road, but there is no sign-post, and I do not recall which way I must turn. I turn to the right, but there is no village. I go slowly, but when in two - three - miles there is still no village, I am sure that I have taken the wrong turning. I come to a cross-road, and I see at last a sign-post, which tells me I have come away from Stilhurst. I turn the auto, therefore, and I go back. That is all!"
"That's all very well, sir, but when you fetched up at the doctor's house after all this joy-riding, weren't you a bit surprised to find it was only five-to-five by your watch?"
"It didn't signify. I did not take count of the time. Perhaps I was a little surprised, but what matter?"
"When did you discover that your watch was wrong?"
"Later. When I came back to this house."
"Oh you did, did you, sir? Then why did you tell Inspector Cook nothing about it? Why didn't you tell him what you've just told me?"
The Prince flung out his hand. "But put yourself in my place! What a situation! What horror did I find here! I have done nothing, I am innocent! Must I say then that when Mr. Carter was murdered I have no alibi? It is not reasonable! It is folly! I see that it will be better not to divulge the truth."
"Well, that may be your idea of what's best, but it's not mine!" said the Inspector.
"Ah, you do not understand! You do not appreciate the predicament in which I find myself !. Of what use to tell the police of the truth? It is not helpful; it will only confuse them, for I know nothing of the murder. It is clear to me, moreover, that it will lead to much unpleasantness if I speak the truth. It is more comfortable, much wiser, to tell a little lie. You cannot blame me for that!"
"Well, that's where you're mistaken, sir, because if this story of yours is true, you've acted very wrongly."
"Ah, you are blind, stupid! You have no imagination, no understanding! What does it matter where I may be at the time of this murder? Ask, instead, where was Mr. Steel? Where was Miss Cliffe? Did I not say you would become confused if it was known that I have not an alibi? Or is it because I am not English that you desire to make a case against me? Yes, I perceive what is in your mind! You say to yourself, "This man is a foreigner, therefore I do not trust him."'
The Inspector strove with himself. "Of all the ! Look here, sir, on your own showing you've told me a lot of lies, not to mention what you told Inspector Gook, and now you turn round and say I don't believe you because you're a foreigner! Whatever next!"
"I have shown you that it is of no account that I have concealed from you the truth. It is, in fact, for the best. You have made a mistake to drag from me the fact that I have lied to you, and you will regret it, for you think now that it is I who have killed Carter, and that is not so. Ah, but it is folly! Why, I demand of you, should I kill him?"
"By all I can hear, sir, you're very friendly with Mrs. Carter," said Hemingway significantly.
"You think that I killed Carter that I might marry Mrs. Carter?"
"Well," said Hemingway, "that's why you'd like me to think Mr. Steel did it, isn't it?"
"Oh, my friend, you are quite mistaken! No, no, it was not necessary that I should kill Carter, I assure you! You must know that he was not an estimable man, not a good husband, not any longer attractive, you understand. The affair would have arranged itself better, for Mrs. Carter might so easily have divorced him. You perceive? You are a man of the world; I can speak frankly to you. I desire to marry Mrs. Carter: I do not make a secret of it. But I do not like that Carter should be murdered; I prefer infinitely a divorce. It is reasonable that, is it not? Consider!"
The unexpected candour of this speech quite took the Inspector's breath away. The Prince's face had cleared; in his voice was a note of unmistakable sincerity.
"Am I to understand, sir, that Mrs. Carter was intending to divorce her husband?"
The Prince's eyelids drooped; his sidelong look, and the gleam of a smile seemed to take the Inspector into his confidence. He spread out his well-manicured hands. "Gently, gently, if you please! You wish me to tell you that it was arranged already, but you must know that these things do not arrange themselves in the flash of an eye. I am entirely honest with you, and I say that all was in good train. I do not flatter myself when I say that I am a more desirable parti than this poor Carter. What would you? He is already growing old; he drinks; he spends the money that is his wife's on other women; he is not even amusing! Above all, she does not love him. Consider again! I am not old; I do not become a little fuddled every night; I do not forget to accord to Mrs. Carter that admiration which is her due. I am poor, yes, but I am a prince, and to be, instead of Mrs. Carter, the Princess Varasashvili, would be a great thing, would it not? Ah, yes, one may say that the divorce was sure! You will see that I am perfectly frank with you, Inspector."
"You certainly are!" said Hemingway, almost bereft of speech.
"It is best. Between men of the world these little affairs are easily understood. The matter is now made plain, I think? You have no more to ask me?"
"At the moment, I haven't," said Hemingway. "But I wouldn't like you to run away with the idea that telling me these highly remarkable plans of yours has cleared you, sir, because it hasn't. Do you use a nail-file?"
The suddenness of the question startled the Prince. He replied evasively: "I do not know why you should ask!"
"No, nor I don't know why you shouldn't answer," said the Inspector.
The Prince flushed! "Let me tell you, I do not like your manner!"
"Well, since we're being so nice and open," retorted the Inspector, "I don't mind telling you that I don't like your story, sir. You'd better consider your position."
The Prince said uneasily: "You ask me what I do not understand. Certainly I use a nail-file! Why should I not tell you, since you are so curious?"
"Don't happen to have lost one lately, do you, sir?"
"No!"
"Ah, well!" said the Inspector. "Then I won't detain you any longer."
He waited until the door had closed behind the Prince before turning an expressive gaze upon his Sergeant. That grave-eyed man shook his head. "I wouldn't have believed it!" he said.
"Yes, I reckon we're seeing life," agreed Hemingway. "Wonderful how frank and above-board he got as soon as he found he wasn't going over big with me!"
"Do you think he did it, sir?"
"I wouldn't put it above him. All the same, this is a highly intricate case, and it won't do for you and me to go jumping to conclusions."
"He's a real nasty piece of work," said the Sergeant sternly. "He fairly made my gorge rise!"
"Yes, I never have thought that new way they have at the zoo of keeping snakes was safe," said Hemingway. "If I weren't a very conscientious man, I'd arrest his Highness right now, and go off and get a bit of supper, which is what I need."
The Sergeant frowned. "I wouldn't say, myself, we'd got quite enough on him, sir," he suggested diffidently.
"That's another reason why I'm not arresting him," said the Inspector.
He went out into the hall. The door into the drawingroom stood open, and he could see Vicky Fanshawe, perched on the arm of a chair. He walked across the hall, and went into the drawing-room. Only the two girls and Hugh Dering were there, for Ermyntrude had gone upstairs to dress for dinner, and the Prince seemed to have followed her example.
"I do hope I'm not intruding," said Hemingway cheerfully. "Of course, if I am, you've only got to tell me."
"And then I suppose you'd go away?" said Vicky.
"I'd be in a very awkward position," confessed the Inspector. "Because, as it happens, I want to ask both you young ladies one or two questions."
"Right, then I'll clear out," said Hugh, knocking out his pipe, and putting it in his pocket.
Vicky flung out a hand. "Don't leave us!" she said throbbingly. "Can't you see that we may need you?"
"Can it, Vicky!" said Hugh, unimpressed.
"I wish you would stay," said Mary nervously.
"I'm sure I've no objection," said the Inspector. "There's no need for anyone to get the shudders yet. What I want to know first, is whether it's true that you, miss, are Mr. Carter's heiress?"
Mary stared at him in dawning dismay. "Who's been telling you that nonsense?"
"Alexis!" said Vicky tensely.
"Well, that's what I want to know, miss. Is it nonsense, or had Mr. Carter got a fortune to leave?"
"No. At least, he himself was heir to a lot of money. It's quite true that it comes to me. He always said he should leave it to me, and, as a matter of fact, I believe he made out some kind of a will, which two of the servants witnessed. I don't know whether it was legal, of course."
"Just a moment!" interposed Hugh. "What is all this about Carter's expectations? Something was said about them the other day, but where are you supposed to come into it?"
"It's Wally's Aunt Clara," explained Mary. "She's been in a lunatic asylum for years, but she's frightfully rich, and Wally was her next-of-kin. I believe she's going on for eighty, so she must die fairly soon. Not that I ever set much store by it. I mean, Wally's expectations were practically a family joke."
"But it's you who'll come into the money now that Mr. Carter's dead?" said the Inspector.
"Yes, I suppose so. I hadn't really thought about it," replied Mary, looking rather scared.
"Do you mind if we get this straightened out?" said Hugh. "I frankly haven't got the hang of it. What relation to you is this aunt of Carter's?"
"Oh, she isn't my aunt!"
"No, that I'd grasped. How does the relationship work?"
"Well, I don't think it does really. She's a Carter, you see. I suppose, in a way, I'm connected with her through Wally, but she isn't actually a relation. She wasn't actually Wally's aunt either, though he always called her aunt. She was a cousin."
Hugh said patiently: "What exactly was your relationship to Carter?"
"I was his first cousin. My father's elder sister married Wally's father."
"Then you've no Carter blood at all?"
"Oh no, none!"
"In that case," said Hugh, "it's just as well that you never set much store by Aunt Clara's money. You won't get it."
"Won't I? Are you sure?" said Mary, bewildered.
"How you must be enjoying yourself!" said Vicky, addressing herself to Hugh. "You practically couldn't be more blighting! Poor Mary, do you mind frightfully?"
"No. I don't think so. It never really entered into my calculations."
"I'm bound to say this is all very surprising," said the Inspector. "I suppose you're sure of your facts, sir?"
"Of course I'm sure! A man can't bequeath property which he doesn't possess."
"Well, but who will get it?" asked Mary. "After all, I was Wally's nearest surviving relative!"
"That has nothing to do with it. When the old lady dies, the money will go to her next-of-kin. You don't come into it at all."
"But, Hugh, she hasn't got any next-of-kin now that Wally's dead! I know Wally told me she was an only child, and she certainly never got married."
"My dear girl, it doesn't make the least difference to you. You're out of it altogether. Sorry, but there it is!"
"Is that the law?" said Vicky incredulously.
"That, my fair one, is the law," replied Hugh.
"Well, I think it's all for the best," said Vicky, "and a complete sell for Alexis, because the Inspector now sees that Mary hadn't got a motive. Don't you, Inspector?"
"No," said Mary. "No, it doesn't clear me, because I didn't know about this next-of-kin business. Oh dear, what a nightmare it's beginning to be! But surely you can't think I'd shoot my cousin!"
"Darling Mary, no one who'd ever seen you with a gun could possibly think you'd fired a shot in your life," said Vicky, with lovely frankness.
"It's a funny thing, but it's not often you'll find a lady who won't behave as though she thought a gun would bite her," remarked the Inspector. "But I understand you're not like that, miss?"
Vicky's seraphic blue eyes surveyed him for a moment. "Did the Prince tell you that?" she asked softly.
"It doesn't matter who told me, miss. Do you shoot?"
"No! I mean, yes, in a way I do," said Vicky, becoming flustered all at once. "But I practically never hit anything! Do I, Mary? Mary, you know it was only one of my acts, and I'm not really a good shot at all! If I hit anything, it's quite by accident. Mary, why are you looking at me like that?"
Mary, who had been taken by surprise by the sudden loss of poise in Vicky, stammered: "I wasn't! I mean, I don't know what you're talking about!"
"You think I did it!" Vicky cried, springing to her feet. "You've always thought so! Well, you can't prove it, any of you! You'll never be able to prove it!"
"Vicky!" gasped Mary, quite horrified.
Vicky brushed her aside, and rounded tempestuously upon the Inspector. "The dog isn't evidence. He often doesn't bark at people. I don't wear hair-slides, I'd nothing to gain, nothing! Oh, leave me alone, leave me alone!"
The Inspector's bright, quick-glancing eyes, which had been fixed on her with a kind of bird-like interest, moved towards Mary, saw on her face a look of the blankest astonishment, and finally came to rest on Hugh, who seemed to be torn between anger and amusement.
Vicky, who had cast herself down on the sofa, raised her face from her hands, and demanded: "Why don't you say something?"
"I haven't had time to learn my part, miss," replied the Inspector promptly.
"Inspector, it's a privilege to know you!" said Hugh. Vicky said fiercely, between her teeth: "If you ruin my act, I'll murder you!"
"Look here, miss, I haven't come to play at amateur theatricals!" protested the Inspector. "Nor this isn't the moment to be larking about!"
Vicky flew up off the sofa. "Answer me, answer me! I was on the scene of the crime, wasn't I?"
"So I've been told, but if you were to ask me-'
"My dog didn't bark. That's important. That other Inspector saw that, and you do too. Don't you?"
"I don't deny it's a point. It's a very interesting point, what's more, but it doesn't necessarily mean '
"I can shoot. Anyone will tell you that! I'm not afraid of guns."
"You don't seem to me to be afraid of anything," said Hemingway with some asperity. "In fact, it's a great pity you're not, because the way you're carrying on, trying to convict yourself of murder, is highly confusing, and will very likely land you in trouble!"
"There is a case against me, isn't there? You didn't think so at first, but the Prince told you that I could shoot, and you began to wonder. Didn't you?"
"All right, we'll say I did, and there is a case against you. Anything for a quiet life!"
Vicky stamped her foot. "Don't laugh! If I'm not a suspect, you must be mad! Quick, I can hear my mother coming! Am I a suspect or am I not?"
"Very well, miss, since you will have it! You are a suspect!"
"Angela' breathed Vicky, with the most melting look through her lashes, and turned towards the door.
Ermyntrude came in. Before anyone could speak, Vicky had cast herself upon the maternal bosom. "Oh, mother, mother, don't let them!"
The Inspector opened his mouth, and shut it again. Mary said indignantly: 'Vicky, it's not fair! Stop it!"
Ermyntrude clasped her daughter in her arms. Over Vicky's golden head, she cast a flaming look at Hemingway. "What have you been saying to her?" she demanded, in a voice that would have made a braver man than Hemingway quail. "Tell me this instant!"
"It isn't his fault!" sobbed Vicky. "Alexiss has told him about my shooting, and being on the scene! Oh mother, I knew all along Alexis thought I'd done it, but I never, never thought he'd set the police on to me!"
"Oh!" said Mary, in a choking voice.
"Alexis told you?" Ermyntrude said terribly.
"Look here, madam '
"You called to me, Trudinka?" said the Prince, appearing suddenly in the doorway. "Ah, but what is this? What has distressed the little Vicky?"
He encountered a look from the widow which made him take an involuntary step backwards.
"Answer me this!" commanded Ermyntrude. "What have you been saying to that man about my child?"
"But, Trudinka '
"Don't you call me Trudinka! What did you say to that man?"
"I said nothing! But nothing!" declared the Prince, the smile quite vanished from his face. "If he has told you that I said a word about Vicky, it is a lie!"
Inspector Hemingway, whose senses were reeling, discovered the breaking-point of his admirable temper. "I've had more than enough of you!" he said. "Not say a word about her! Oh, didn't you, indeed!"
Ermyntrude extended an arm towards the Prince in the most superb gesture of her life. "Out of my sight!" she said. "You viper!"