"Can you describe him, Mrs. North?"
"No, except that he was rather stout and short. You see, it was dusk, and I didn't see his face. He walked off towards Vale Avenue. Well, I found Mr. Fletcher in his study, as I said."
"Was he alone?"
"Oh yes!"
"And then?"
"Well - well, nothing, really. We had a - a talk, and then I said I mustn't be late, and - and just left."
"Do you know what the time was then?"
"Yes, it was a quarter to ten."
"A quarter to ten?" he repeated, raising his head from his notebook.
"Yes. There was a clock on the mantelpiece, and I happened to notice the time."
"Then you were only with Mr. Fletcher for ten minutes?"
"I suppose so. Yes, it must have been about that."
"A very short call, Mrs. North, was it not?"
"I don't see why - What do you mean?"
"Merely that it strikes me as odd that having, as you yourself state, gone to see Mr. Fletcher because you were bored, you stayed so short a time with him. Did anything happen to make you anxious to leave at once?"
"No. No, of course not. Only I could see he was busy, and I didn't want to be a nuisance."
He made a note in his book. "I see. So you left the study at 9.45. Did you return home by the way you had come?"
"Yes. But not immediately. I heard the garden-gate open, and - and it occurred to me that it would look rather odd - my being there at that hour. I didn't want anyone to see me, so I hid behind a bush."
"Mr. Fletcher, then, did not accompany you to the gate?"
"No," she faltered. "There was no reason why he should."
"Oh!" said Hannasyde. "Very well, Mrs. North: you hid behind a bush. Did you see who it was that entered the garden?"
"No, I didn't. I mean, in the dusk, and - and only being able to peer through the bush, I couldn't get a clear view. I only know it was a man. He looked quite ordinary, but he had a hat on, and I didn't see his face."
"What sort of hat, Mrs. North?"
"A Homburg, I think."
"Light or dark?"
She hesitated. "I think it was a light one."
"Did you happen to notice whether he carried a walking-stick?"
"No. No, I'm sure he didn't."
"Did he go up to the house?"
"Yes, he went into Mr. Fletcher's study."
"Did you hear what happened then?"
"No. As soon as it was safe to do so I went away, of course. I don't know anything more."
Hannasyde shut his notebook, and, looking straight across at Helen, said bluntly: "Mrs. North, are you prepared to state that your visit to Mr. Fletcher was not in connection with these notes of yours?"
"I don't understand. I've told you -'
"I don't think you've told me the whole truth."
"I don't know why you should say that, or what you may choose to suspect, but -'
"I suspect that Mr. Fletcher was threatening to use these notes against you, Mrs. North."
"That's absurd! I tell you he was a friend of mine!"
"Yes, you have told me that, but I find it difficult to reconcile that statement with the presence of the IOUs in his safe. If his motives in obtaining possession of them were as chivalrous as you say they were, it would surely have been more natural for him either to have destroyed them, or to have given them back to you?"
"Are you suggesting that he was trying to blackmail me? It isn't true! Good heavens, what could he possibly want to blackmail me for?"
"Perhaps he wanted something from you which you were unwilling to give, Mrs. North."
She flushed. "Oh - ! You've no right to say that! Besides, how could he blackmail me? It isn't a sin to get into debt!"
"He might have threatened to lay your IOUs before your husband, might he not?"
"He wouldn't - he wasn't like that!" she said faintly.
"Where is your husband, Mrs. North?"
"He's in Berlin. He went last week, and won't be back till next Wednesday."
Even as the words left her lips he saw her face change. The click of an opening door had sounded. Hannasyde turned quickly. A man had entered the room, and was standing on the threshold, his hand resting on the doorknob, his cool, rather stern grey eyes surveying the group in the middle of the room.
Chapter Four
Hannasyde heard the frightened gasp that came from Helen, and glanced once towards her. She was very white, gazing as though benumbed at the newcomer. It was Sally who spoke.
"Hullo, John!" she said nonchalantly. "Where did you spring from?"
John North closed the door, and walked forward. "How do you do, Sally?" he responded. His voice was a deep one, and he spoke with a certain deliberation. He was a well-built man of average height, good-looking, and with a manner quietly assured. Having shaken hands with his sister-in-law, he nodded at his wife, saying: "Well, Helen? Sally keeping you company?"
"Yes, she's staying here," Helen answered breathlessly. John, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Berlin!"
"I got through my business there more quickly than I expected." He looked at Hannasyde in a measuring way, and said: "Will you introduce me, Helen?"
She threw an imploring look at Hannasyde, but said: "Yes, of course. It is Superintendent - oh dear, I'm afraid I have forgotten your name, Superintendent!"
"Hannasyde," he supplied.
"Yes, from Scotland Yard, John. Rather a dreadful thing has happened - well, a ghastly thing! Ernest Fletcher has been murdered."
"That doesn't seem to me to explain the presence of the Superintendent in my house," he said calmly. "May I know what you are doing here, Superintendent?"
Before Hannasyde could reply Helen had hurried into speech. "Oh, but don't you see, John? The Superintendent is trying to discover someone who might be able to throw any light on the mystery, and hearing that I knew Ernie, he came to see if I could help. Only of course I can't. The whole thing seems absolutely incredible to me."
His brows rose a little. "Are you making a house-to-house visitation of all Fletcher's acquaintances, Superintendent? Or do you suspect my wife of having knocked him on the head? I hardly think she possesses the necessary strength."
"You are well informed, Mr. North. Where did you learn that he had been knocked on the head?"
John North looked at him with a faint smile in his eyes. He drew a folded newspaper from under his arm, and handed it to Hannasyde. "You may study the source of my information if you wish," he said politely.
Hannasyde glanced down the columns of the evening paper. "Quick work," he remarked, folding the paper again, and giving it back. "Were you acquainted with the deceased, Mr. North?"
"I knew him, certainly. I should not describe my acquaintance with him as very close. But if you are interrogating everyone who knew him, perhaps you would like to come into the library, and interrogate me?" He moved to the door as he spoke, and opened it. "Or have you not yet finished questioning my wife?"
"Yes, I think so." Hannasyde turned to Helen, meeting her anguished look with the flicker of a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Mrs. North: I won't take up any more of your time. Good-morning, Miss Drew."
"You haven't seen the last of me by a long chalk," Sally told him. "I don't think my name conveys anything to you, which is rather levelling, but I'm a writer of crime novels, and I have never before had the opportunity of studying a crime at close quarters. What is of particular interest to me is your handling of the case. One is always apt to go wrong on police procedure."
"I suppose so," answered Hannasyde, looking rather appalled.
She gave him a sudden, swift smile. "You've taught me one thing at least: I've always made my detectives a bit on the noisome side up till now."