For a moment no one moved or spoke. Then Stephen Guest broke the startled silence. "Dinah, look after Fay," he said, and strode past Mr. Twining to the window.
"I'll come with you," Halliday said, in a queer, strangled voice. As he brushed by her chair he heard his wife stammer: "But who — Oh, it's too awful! I don't believe it!"
Finch was just coming out of the dining-room when the two men crossed the hall. Guest said: "There's been some kind of an accident, Finch. You'd better come along."
The butler laid down the tray he was carrying. "An accident, sir? I hope not Mr Geoffrey, sir?"
"No. Sir Arthur," replied Guest, walking towards the study door.
It was shut, just as it had been all the morning. He opened it, and went in.
The room seemed very quiet The General was seated at his desk. He had fallen forward across it, with his head on the blotting pad, and one arm stretched out over a litter of bills and invoices. The other hung limply at his side. A curious Chinese dagger lay on the floor by the chair, its blade sticky with blood. There were no signs that any struggle had taken place. The room, a square, severely furnished apartment, was almost painfully tidy. A saddle-bag chair stood beside the empty fireplace; More bookshelves of the expanding variety filled one wall; there was a small safe behind the door, and, next to it a filing cabinet. The desk stood in a central position, facing the French windows looking on to the drive. These stood open, apparently of design, since each half was bolted to the floor to prevent slamming in any sudden draught. On the west wall another long window was securely fastened, the dun-coloured net curtains being drawn apart to admit the maximum amount of light to the room. The General was sitting in a swivel chair with a low rounded back, and placed against the wall were one or two straight chairs with leather seats. There was a Turkey carpet on the floor, and several trophies hanging on the walls. The desk itself was a large, knee-hole writing-table, with drawers. An electric reading-lamp with a green shade stood on it, the telephone, a brass inkstand, a blotter, a sheaf of accounts, a couple of pens, and a pencil which seemed to have slipped from the General's fingers. On the floor, within reach of the General's hand, was a waste-paper basket, half-full of torn and crumpled sheets of paper.
All three men had paused for an instant in the doorway. The butler said in a hushed voice: "Good God, sir!" He went forward with Guest, and bent over his master's still form. "Sir Arthur!" Then he raised his head, and looked from Guest to Halliday. "Stabbed!" he said, as though the thing were barely credible.
"Yes," said Guest unemotionally. "Stabbed in the neck with this, I guess." He bent to pick up the dagger at his feet.
"Don't touch that!" Halliday said quickly. He had not moved from the doorway, where he had stood transfixed, staring at the General's body, but he took a quick step forward now and caught Guest's arm. "There may be finger-prints."
Guest straightened himself. "I was forgetting. You're right."
"Are you sure he's dead? Can't we do anything?" Halliday demanded shakily. "This is too ghastly!" He put out his hand, hesitated for the fraction of a minute, and then resolutely laid it over the slack one lying on the desk. "He's not cold."
"He's dead all right," Guest answered.
The butler, who was looking rather pale, but still quite composed, moved across to the windows, and carefully shut and bolted them and drew the net curtains across. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it over his face.
"Feeling queer?" Guest asked.
"No, sir. Thank you. It gave one rather a turn for the moment. It seems so sudden. Quite unexpected, as one might say. I take it, sir, you will be ringing up the police station?"
"I suppose we ought to do that at once," Guest answered, and picked up the instrument.
"I say, this is an appalling business!" Halliday said. "Of course the police must be sent for, but I'm thinking of Lady Billington-Smith."
"Pardon me, sir, but has her ladyship been apprised of the — the accident?"
"Good God, yes! everyone knows. It was Mrs. Twining who found him."
"Oh dear, dear!" said Finch. "It is not, if I may say so, a sight for a lady."
Stephen Guest was speaking into the mouthpiece of the telephone. "I'm speaking from the Grange, from General Sir Arthur Billington-Smith's… Yes. There has been an accident… Yes, to the General. He's dead… No, not a natural death… You'll be up right now?… All right."
"What are we to do?" Halliday asked. "We can't leave him like this!"
"I think, sir, if I were to lock the door of this room it would be the best thing," said Finch. "With your permission I will do so, and keep the key until the police arrive."
"Yes, you'd better," agreed Guest. He cast a cursory glance down at the dead man. "Nothing for us to do here. We'd better be getting back to the women-folk."
At that moment a bell shrilled in the distance. Finch frowned slightly. "I think that is the front door, sir. If you will come now I will lock the room up before I answer the door."
"Never mind about that yet. Go and get rid of whoever it is," Halliday said.
The butler looked at him. "Yes, sir. If you will excuse me, I should prefer to see all locked up first."
Guest walked across to the door and took out the key, which was placed on the inside. "All right, Finch. I'll lock up," he said briefly.
"Very good, sir," Finch said, and went out.
"Give me the key!" said Halliday. "I'll do it. You get back to Lady Billington-Smith."
Stephen Guest fitted the key in again on the outside of the door. "That's all right. I shouldn't keep on looking at him, if I were you. Not a nice sight."
"No," Halliday said with a shudder. "Horrible!"
Finch came back and addressed himself to Guest. "It is Dr Raymond, sir, come to see her ladyship. I was wondering whether we should not inform the doctor of what has happened?"
"Yes, by all means," Guest answered. "Is he in the hall? I'll go out and speak to him."
The doctor was a burlyy man of about forty, with a cheerful manner and twinkling blue eyes. He was just pulling off his driving gloves when Guest came out of the study.
Guest said: "Good morning, doctor. My name's Guest. Would you mind coming into the study a moment?"
"Certainly," said Dr Raymond, looking somewhat surprised. "But I came to see Lady Billington-Smith. Is anything wrong?"
"Yes," said Guest bluntly. "Sir Arthur has just been discovered, dead."
The doctor's smile vanished. "Sir Arthur dead? Good heavens! I'll come at once."
When he stood inside the study and saw the General's body, his face changed. He shot one quick, searching look from Guest to Halliday, and then went up to the desk and bent over the still form there. He glanced up, and said in a curt, impersonal voice: "Do you know when this happened?"
"We're rather expecting you to tell us that," replied Guest.
Dr Raymond lifted the General's hand gently and tested the reflex action of the fingers. The three other nun stood silently waiting for him to finish his brief examination. Presently he straightened himself. "Have the police been notified?"
"As soon as it was discovered," replied Guest.
Halliday moved away from the door. "Have you formed any opinion as to when it could have been done, doctor?" he asked.
"It would be very hard to say with any exactness," the doctor answered. "Certainly within the last hour. Now if I may I should like to wash my hands, and then I think I had better see Lady Billington-Smith. She knows, of course, of this — tragedy?"
"Yes, she knows," Guest said. "Halliday, you might take the doctor along to the cloakroom. Nothing further you want to do here, doctor? Then Finch can shut the room up."
Halliday took him aside a moment "Look here, Guest, hadn't you or I better take the key? I mean — one can't be too careful, you know."
"I don't fancy you need worry about Finch," said Guest. "Still, you may be right. Doctor, will you take charge of the key till the police come?"
Outside they met Dinah, who had just come out of the drawing-room, looking rather pale but otherwise herself. "I say, this is pretty ghastly, isn't it?" she said. "Mrs. Twining's been telling us how she found him. What has got to be done? Can I help at all?"
"Keep everybody quiet," recommended Stephen. "This is Doctor — Don't think you told me your name, doctor?"
Dinah's face lightened. "Oh, good! My sister's feeling pretty bowled over, Dr Raymond, and I should think a strong brandy-and-soda wouldn't do Mrs. Twining any harm. In fact, that's what I came to get."
"I'll see Lady Billington-Smith in one moment," Raymond promised. "You're Miss Fawcett, I expect? If you'll lead the way, Mr — Halliday, isn't it? — I can just have a wash."
Dinah waited until he and Halliday had gone; then she turned to Guest again. "Stephen, this is going to be awful," she said. "It'll mean the police, won't it?"
"Fraid so," Guest replied. "It'll mean, unless I'm much mistaken, that no one will be catching that three-ten up to town. Think you can cope with the women?"
Finch gave a discreet cough. "If I might make a suggestion, sir, I could serve luncheon quietly in the dining-room now, for the visitors."
"It seems rather ghoulish," said Dinah dubiously. "Still — I suppose, one's got to eat, and anyway it would get Lola and Camilla out of the way."
"Has Lola come down yet?" inquired Guest.
A reluctant grin destroyed Miss Fawcett's gravity. "Yes, she has. I don't want to be flippant, but — but she's being rather good value. Only, of course, very trying for Fay. She seems to have made up her mind to be arrested for the crime. Camilla's merely hysterical. What I can't make out is where Geoffrey has got to. There's no sign of him, and it's already half past one."
Halliday and the doctor came back at that moment, and Dinah broke off to conduct Dr Raymond into the drawing-room.
Fay was seated beside Mrs. Twining on thee sofa, her hands clenched nervously together in her lap, her eyes unnaturally wide, as though she had caught a glimpse of some horror. Mrs. Twining, on the other hand, was as composed as ever, if a little white. Camilla Halliday was wrenching at a handkerchief, saying over and over again:
"I can't believe it! I simply can't believe it!" Lola, seated in a high-backed arm-chair, was looking bright-eyed and heroic. As the doctor came in, she was saying with great complacency: "For me this is an affair extremely terrible. It is known that the General — whom, however, I forgive, for I am a very good Christian, I assure you — has been most cruel to me. Certainly the police must ask themselves if it is not I who have stabbed the General."
Fay gave a shiver, but her fixed stare into space did not waver.
"Here's Dr Raymond," Dinah said, taking charge of her situation. "Mrs. Halliday, Lola — will you come into the dining-room now? Dr Raymond would like to see my sister alone, and — and — I think Finch is serving lunch."
"Lunch!" Camilla cried wildly. "How can you be so awful? I should be sick if I had to look at food!"
Mrs. Twining got up. "Nonsense!" she said. "You must try not to let your feelings run away with you, Mrs. Halliday, and to help as much as you can by behaving quite normally." She exchanged a somewhat forced smile with Dr Raymond, and led the way to the door.
Before she had time to open it, a cry from Lola stopped her. "Ah, Dios!" Lola exclaimed, and pointed dramatically to the window.
Geoffrey stood there, looking hot and dishevelled and nerve-ridden.
"Geoffrey! Where on earth have you been?" said Dinah involuntarily.
He passed a hand across his brow. "What's that got to do with you?" he said. "I don't know. Miles away." He became aware of their eyes staring at him, and said sharply: "What are you all looking at me for? It's nothing to do with you where I've been, is it?"
Dr Raymond stepped up to him, and took him by the arm. "Steady, young man. You're a bit over-done. Sit down. Something rather shocking has happened. Your father has been — well, murdered, I'm afraid."
Geoffrey looked blankly up at him. "What? Father's been murdered?" He blinked rather dazedly. "Are you going potty? I — you don't mean it, do you?" He read the answer in the doctor's face, and suddenly got up. "Good God!" he said. His mouth began to quiver; to their dismay he started to giggle, in helpless, lunatic gusts.
"Wells," Camilla gasped. "I must say!"
"Stop that!" Raymond said harshly. "Stop at once, Geoffrey: do you hear me? Now control yourself! Quite quiet!"
"Oh, I c-can't help it! Oh God, d-don't you's-see horn, f-funny it is?" wailed Geoffrey. "Your f, faces! Oh, d-don't make me laugh!"
Dinah vanished from the room, to reappear in a few moments with the brandy decanter and a glass. The doctor and Mrs. Twining were standing over Geoffrey, who had grown quieter, but who was still shaking with idiotic mirth.
Dr Raymond looked up. "Ah, thanks. Not too much — yes, that's enough. Now Geoffrey, drink this." He put the glass to Geoffrey's lips, and almost forced the spirit down his throat.
Geoffrey coughed and spluttered. The laughter died. He looked round the room, and moistened his lips.
"Sorry. I don't know what happened to me," he said in an exhausted voice. "Hul — hullo, Aunt Julia! What are you doing here? Who murdered Father?"
"We don't know, my dear," Mrs. Twining said quietly. "Dinah, if you'll take Mrs. Halliday and Miss de Silva into lunch, I think I'll stay here till Geoffrey feels more himself."
Dinah promptly held open the door for the other two to pass out. Under her compelling gaze they did so, but once in the hall Camilla gave a shudder, and declared her inability to pass the study-door. She was with difficulty induced to overcome this shrinking, and entered the dining-room in the end grasping Dinah's arm.
Both Guest and Halliday were seated at the table. Guest was stolidly eating cold beef and Halliday, opposite to him, was making a pretence of eating. They rose as the three women entered the room, and Guest pulled out a chair from the table. "That's right," he said. "Come and sit down, Mrs. Halliday."
Camilla disregarded him, but made a clutch at her husband. "Oh, Basil, isn't it awful? I feel absolutely frightful! What will the police do? Will they want to see me?"
Basil Halliday removed her hand from his coat sleeve. "There's nothing for you to feel frightful about, Camilla. It hasn't got anything to do with you. Sit down, and pull yourself together."
Camilla burst into tears. "You n-needn't talk to me in that unkind way!" she sobbed. "You don't seem to realise how upset I am. I mean, I was only with him a little while ago. What will the police ask me? I don't know anything about it!"
"Of course not. We neither of us know anything. All we have to do is to answer any questions perfectly truthfully," said Halliday, putting her into a chair. "That's right, isn't it, Guest?"
"I should think so," Guest replied. "Can't say I know much about the procedure."
Miss de Silva eyed Camilla austerely. "I do not find that there is reason for you to weep," she announced. "ll I do so that is what may be easily understood, since Sir Arthur was the father of Geoffrey. But I do not weep. because I have great courage, and, besides, I do not choose that my eyes should be red. There will bc reporters, and one must think of these things, for it is a very good thing to have one's picture in all the papers though not, I assure you, with red eyes."
This speech had the effect of stopping Camilla's rather gusty sobs. She said: "I can't think how you can be so callous! And please don't ask me to eat anything, because I simply couldn't swallow a mouthful!"
"Just a little chicken, madam," said Finch soothingly at her elbow, and put a plate down before her.
Dinah had seated herself beside Stephen Guest, and was mechanically eating a morsel of chicken. It seemed curiously tasteless, and rather difficult to swallow. She felt as though she were partaking of lunch in an unpleasant nightmare, where everything was top syturvy, and familiar people said and did ridiculous things that surprised you even in your dream. She asked, "Have the police come?" and thought at once how odd that sounded, quite unreal, as unreal as the thought of Arthur, murdered in his own study. It was the sort of macabre thing that happened to other people, and was reported in the evening papers, making you wonder whatever they could be like who got themselves into such extraordinary cases. Things like this just didn't happen in one's own family. It was no good repeating to oneself that it had happened; one just couldn't realise it.
"Yes, they arrived about five minutes ago," Guest was saying. "Four of them. They're in the study now. They'll want to interview Fay first, I expect. Is she very upset?"
"Well, naturally it's a frightful shock," Dinah said. "I've left Dr Raymond and Mrs. Twining with her. She seems more stunned than anything. Geoffrey's there too," she added.
Camilla raised her head. "I never saw anything like the way Geoffrey took it!" she announced. "It takes a lot to shock me, but I must say that about finished me. He just laughed! However badly he'd quarrelled with poor Sir Arthur I should have though he could at least have pretended to be sorry."
"Hysteria?" inquired Guest, lifting his brows.
"I'm sure I don't know. All I can say is that he came in looking quite wild. I was absolutely terrified. I thought he'd gone mad or something."
"It is for Geoffrey a good thing that his papa is killed," said Lola thoughtfully. "Naturally I cannot marry him when he has no money, but that is quite different now, and he will have a great deal of money, and also he will be Sir Geoffrey, which I find is better than Mister; more distinguished."
"Sorry," said Dinah, "but Arthur wasn't a baronet. Geoffrey will have to go on being Mister."
Miss de Silva appeared to be much chagrined by this piece of information, and slightly indignant. "I should prefer that I should be Lady Billington-Smith, like your sister," she said firmly. "I do not understand why Geoffrey is not to be Sir Geoffrey. It seems to me quite incomprehensible, but perhaps it will be arranged. I will speak to Geoffrey."
Suddenly Dinah knew that she too was going to break into hopeless laughter. She bit her lip, and tried to choke down the impulse.
The watchful Finch came round the table and poured some wine into her glass. "A little burgundy, miss," he whispered.
Dinah gulped it down gratefully. Really, Finch was wonderful: like a sick-room attendant.
Camilla, on whom food and drink seemed to have had a reviving effect, had launched into an exclamatory and rambling discussion of the morning's events with no one in particular. Her husband tried to stop her. "It's no use asking who could have done it: we can't possibly know," he said angrily. "The less we talk about it the better!"
The footman came into the room from the hall, and murmured something in Finch's ear. He was a young man, and looked somewhat scared, as though all these dramatic proceedings were to him a fearful pleasure.
Finch nodded, and went round behind Guest's chair. "The Superintendent would like to see you now, sir," he said in, a low voice. "In the morning-room, sir."
Dinah was irresistibly reminded of a dentist's waiting-room. Your name was spoken in a sepulchral voice, and out you went, feeling a little sick at the pit of your stomach.
Stephen Guest was not long gone. He came back into the room after perhaps ten minutes, and nodded to Halliday. "They want you next," he said. "Just taking statements. Apparently they can't do much till the Chief Constable turns up from Silsbury. I understand he's bringing the police surgeon along with him."
Halliday got up jerkily, and went out.
"What did they say? Will they want to see me? Do they know who did it?" asked Camilla.
Guest picked up his table-napkin and sat down again. He glanced rather contemptuously across at Camilla, and replied briefly: "Not yet. I expect they'll want to see everyone."
"Where's Fay?" asked Dinah. "Have they finished with her yet?"
"She's gone up to her room. They saw her first, I think. I spoke to Mrs. Twining. She said Fay wanted to be alone. Going to lie down, and would rather no one came up. I'm afraid there's no chance of any of us getting away today. Will that affect you, Miss de Silva?"
"At the moment, and because I choose, and not at all for any other reason, I rest," said Lola with dignity, "Certainly I do not go away, but I think it will be better if I change this frock that I am wearing, for it is green, as you see, and I am quite of the family, so that I must put on a black dress. And I remember that I brought with me a black dress that is extremely chic, moreover."
"As a matter of fact, I was wondering what one, ought to wear," said Camilla. "I mean, it doesn't seem quite right to be going about in colours, does it? Only I simply never wear black, and I can't say I want to buy anything, because it isn't as if it would be the least use to me afterwards, you see."
Dinah felt herself to be incapable of entering into this discussion, and turned instead to Guest, who was spreading butter on a cheese biscuit in a leisurely way that seemed rather incongruous. "Have they found out anything, Stephen?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," he replied. "They aren't giving much away."
Dinah sighed, wishing that he would be a little less laconic. In a moment or two Halliday came back into the room. He said in an unnaturally calm voice: "They want you, Camilla. You've got to tell them just what you were doing this morning, you know. It's only to check up on your movements, so don't get fussed and say a whole lot of things that aren't in the least relevant."
"Oh, Basil, I wish you'd come with me!" said Camilla. "Won't they let you? I simply hate going alone. I know they'll ask me all sorts of questions I don't know anything about."
"Then say you don't know! For God's sake don't behave as though you were frightened!" he said roughly. "There's nothing at all for you to be frightened of, I keep on telling you!" He held the door for her to pass out, and shut it behind her with a snap. He came back to his chair, and reached out a hand for his tumbler. "This is a bit serious for me," he said. "I suppose you know I seem to have been the last person to have seen Sir Arthur alive?"
Dinah stared at him in surprise. Lola, who was carefully peeling a peach, paid no heed. Stephen Guest folded up his napkin. "No, I can't say I did know," he replied. "Well, I was," Halliday said. "As a matter of fact I had — not exactly a row with him, but — well, call it a disagreement. One doesn't quarrel with a man in his own house; that goes without saying. It's rather unfortunate, as things have turned out." He glanced across the room to where Finch was standing. "I understand you heard me talking to Sir Arthur, Finch. You seem to have given the police the impression that we had a violent row."
"That was not my intention, sir," replied the butler gently. "When I was asked if I had heard anyone with Sir Arthur at any time between twelve o'clock and one, I could not do less than tell them the truth."
"You needn't have told them we were quarrelling," said Halliday. "It was no such thing. However, it doesn't really matter, only that it puts me into rather an awkward position."
"I am extremely sorry, sir," said Finch.
Camilla came back looking flustered. "Thank goodtiess that's over!" she said. "They want you now, Miss de Silva. Basil, if we aren't allowed to go home we'd better see about our things being unpacked again. I must say, I can't see why we should have to stay here. It's getting absolutely on my nerves, having all these policemen hanging about. There's one in the hall now. I suppose they're afraid we shall try to escape!"
"I seem to be reserved for the last," remarked Dinah, when the Hallidays had gone. "I do wish they'd hurry. I want to go up to Fay."
"I fancy, miss, that you will not be required to make a statement," said Finch, coming to her elbow with the coffee-tray. "I understand that you were on the terrace the entire time."
"Yes, I suppose I was," reflected Dinah. "Does that mean I'm not a suspect?" Even as she said the words she wished that she had not. She got up. "I'll take my coffee upstairs with me. I think this is all getting rather beastly I hadn't thought of that before. Not even when Halliday told us about being the last to see Arthur. I didn't seem to mean anything in particular, somehow. 1 suppose every one of us is more or less under suspicion.
"I shouldn't worry, if I were you," said Guest, opening the door. "Don't let Fay worry either. See?"
The afternoon was surely the most interminable ever spent at the Grange. It seemed to Dinah as though it would never end. The feeling of unreality grew. Fay remained shut in her room, and would admit no one; the Hallidays had also chosen to stay upstairs. Dawson was sobbing noisily as she went about her work. Geoflrey seemed unable to sit still; and Stephen, who sat perfectly quietly in the billiard-room and read the paper, seemed just as unnatural by reason of his very calm. Lola, after a protracted interview with the dazed but suspicioius Superintendent, had announced that it was important that she should rest between lunch and tea, and had gone upstairs for that purpose. Mrs. Twining remained in the drawing-room with Geoffrey, and Dr Raymond had been permitted to depart as soon as his statement had been carefully transcribed.
The Chief Constable, Major Grierson, arrived just before half past three in a large car with the Divisional Surgeon, a sergeant in plain clothes, and a photographer. He was a worried-looking man of about fifty, with a quick, fussy way of talking, and what appeared to be a chronic catarrh. He kept on dabbing at his thin nose with a ball of a handkerchief, and his conversation was punctuated by sniffs. He was met by the local Superintendent, and by Dinah, who happened to be in the hall when he arrived. He said: "This is a terrible business. Shocking, shocking! Knew the General quite — er — well. You're his sister-in-law? Quite. Now Superintendent, if you are ready… !"
He, and the doctor, the photographer, and the plainclothes man, who turned out to be the finger-print expert, all followed the Superintendent into the study, and remained there for a very long time.
At half past four Fay came downstairs. She had changed into a black frock, which had the effect of enhancing her pallor. Her eyes still had that strained, dilated look, as though they were haunted, but her manner was carefully controlled. She took her usual place behind the tea-tray, and said with an effort: "It was nice of you to stay, Julia. I'm afraid it has all been very — very horrid for you. I find I can't quite realise it yet. It doesn't seem to be possible, somehow. Have they — have they finished yet? Did they find anything to show — to give them any clue, do you know? I feel so certain myself that it must have been someone from outside. The windows were open, after all, and — Arthur made a great many enemies. Don't you think so, Julia? Don't you, Dinah?"
Geoffrey set down his cup and saucer with an unsteady hand. "I suppose you mean you think I did it?" he said. "Well, it may interest you to know that I wasn't anywhere near the house."
Fay looked distressed. "Oh no, no, I didn't mean that!" she said. "Of course I didn't mean that!" She looked up as Stephen Guest entered the room, and in that fleeting moment Dinah read the dread in her eyes. Then Fay said quietly: "Ah, here you are, Stephen. I was just going to ask Geoffrey to tell you tea was ready."
The Hallidays came in at that moment. Camilla had solved the problem of dress, apparently to her satisfaction, by putting on a brown frock instead of the pale blue one she had worn all the morning. She looked though she had been crying, and seemed rather subdued.
There was nothing subdued about Lola, who presently sailed into the room dressed in the deepest of mourning.
Any stranger entering the room would certainly have taken her for the widow, and not Fay. She wore a long, trailing robe of some dead-black material, without any ornament at all, and carried a handkerchief with a dark black hem. Where she could have found such a thing. in a moment's notice Dinah could not imagine. She was forced to the conclusion that either it must belong to the faithful Concetta, or the inky border had been hastily stitched to an ordinary white handkerchief.
"I am quite upset," she announced. "You can feel how my heart is beating, altogether too fast. I have seen that they have taken away the corpse of Geoffrey's papa. It has made me feel extremely sad, quite overcome. And I must tell you that it is very painful to me that the policemen who stand in the hall should stare at me as though they think it is I who have stabbed Geoffrey's papa. I have told the fat policeman that he cannot at all prove that I am an assassin, but he is, I think, a fool, since he will only open his mouth like a fish, and not answer me when I speak."
Her auditors were spared the necessity of replying to this address by the entrance of Finch, who came to tell Fay that the Chief Constable would like to speak to her and to Geoffrey.
They both went out, Geoffrey saying: "I wonder what he wants to see me for? I suppose, though I hadn't thought of it before, that now Father's dead I'm the head of the family. I suppose that's it."
The Chief Constable was looking more worried than ever. The Superintendent, who was standing beside him, with his thumbs tucked into a belt of quite enormous span, had a profoundly dissatisfied look in his eye, and stared hard at a painting over the fireplace in a glassy way that gave the impression that he had entirely dissociated himself from any subsequent proceedings.
The sight of Fay made Major Grierson dab his nose a great many times in succession. He said: "Ah, Lady Billington-Smith! Quite. Er — a very bad business. I assure you I — er —- feel for you most deeply. Now, Mr — er — Billington-Smith, we have come to the conclusion, the Superintendent and I — yes, yes, Superintendent! We have come to the conclusion, as I say, that this is a case where it will be — er — advisable to call in Scotland Yard."
"Scotland Yard?" repeated Geoffrey. "Do you mean we've got to have detectives down? But I say — I mean, is that absolutely necessary?"
The Superintendent brought his aloof gaze down from The Fighting Temeraire, and bent it sternly upon Geoffrey.
Major Grierson's manner became still more impersonal. "I should not, Mr. Billington-Smith, do anything that was in my — er — opinion unnecessary. Now you will understand, of course, that no one must enter the room where the — er — in short, the study. Quite. The Superintendent will leave two of his men — er — on duty. I understand that you have guests in the house. None of these must leave until after the — er — visit of the Yard Inspector. Yes, Superintendent, what is it?"
"In the matter of Mrs. Twining, sir," said the Superintendent woodenly, "who, if agreeable, desires to return to Blessington House, which same being her residence in the vicinity."
"Mrs. Twining, yes. Well, I think in the case of Mrs. Twining, since she lives close — er — at hand, there would be no objection. She will understand, of course, that she must hold herself in — er readiness to be here to answer any further questions which the Yard Inspector may want to put to her. Naturally." He dabbed afresh at his nose "And — er — one other matter, Mr. Billington-Smith. The Inspector will want to see the — er — safe in the study opened. That should be done by your — er — late father's solicitor. Perhaps you will arrange for him to cone down for that purpose. I think that is all at — er — present ."
"Yes, but surely it can't be necessary — I mean, it'll be a most awful nuisance having to stay cooped up here with a lot of policemen on guard," objected Geoffrey. "I shouldn't have thought it would be so frightfully diflicult to find out who murdered Father — not that I'm criticising, of course, but —"
Fay pressed his hand. "Geoffrey, if Major Grierson thinks it necessary, of course — of course it must be done." she said almost inaudibly. "We we quite understand. Major. And you want my husband's solicitor to come down. Yes, I — see. Geoffrey, you'll telephone to him, won't you?"