He laughed. "Thank you!" He bowed slightly to Helen, and went out of the room before John North, who was still holding the door for him.
"This way, Superintendent," North said, leading the way across the hall. "Now what is it you would like to ask me? You have established the fact that I was acquainted with Fletcher."
"But not, I think you said, very well acquainted with him?"
"Not so well acquainted with him as my wife was," replied North. "You will probably find that his closest friends were all of them women."
"You did not like him, in fact, Mr. North?"
"I can't say I was drawn to him," admitted North. "I should describe him as a ladies' man. The type has never appealed to me."
"Did you consider him a dangerous man - with ladies?"
"Dangerous? Oh no, I shouldn't imagine so!" North said, a suggestion of boredom in his voice. "My wife, for instance, regarded him, I believe, somewhat in the light of a tame cat."
"I see. So, speaking as a husband, you would not consider it worth while to be - let us say -jealous of him?"
"I cannot pretend to speak for anyone but myself. But I take it that you do not want me to. I was not jealous of him. Is there anything else you wish to ask me?"
"Yes, I should like to know when you returned from the Continent, Mr. North?"
"I arrived in London yesterday afternoon."
"But you did not come down to Marley until this morning?"
"No, Superintendent, I did not."
"Where did you go, Mr. North?"
"To my flat, Superintendent."
"Where is that, if you please?"
"In Portland Place."
"Was that usual?"
"Quite."
"You will have to forgive my bluntness, Mr. North, but I must ask you to explain yourself a little more fully. Do you and Mrs. North inhabit separate establishments?"
"Not in the sense which you appear to mean," replied North. "I may be wrong, but you seem to attach a sinister importance to my having chosen to remain in London for the night. My wife and I have been married for five years, Superintendent: we are long past the stage of living in one another's pockets."
There was an edge to the deliberate voice, which Hannasyde was quick to hear. As though aware of it himself, North added lightly: "I am often kept late in town. I find the flat convenient."
"I see. Did you dine there?"
"No, I dined at my club."
"And after dinner?"
"After dinner I returned to the flat, and went to bed."
"You were alone there? Or are there any servants?"
"Oh, I was quite alone! It is a service flat, and I had given my valet leave to go out for the evening. I'm afraid I cannot - at the moment - bring forward any corroborative evidence, Superintendent. Perhaps you would like to take my finger-prints?"
"No, not at present, thank you," returned Hannasyde. "In fact, I hardly think I need detain you any longer."
North walked over to the door. "Well, you know where you can find me if you should want to ask me any further questions. My business and flat addresses are both in the London Telephone Directory."
He led the way into the hall, and across it to the front door. A pale grey Homburg lay on the gate-leg table, beside a pair of wash-leather gloves. Hannasyde's eyes rested on it for a moment, but he made no comment, merely picking up his own hat from the chair whereon he had laid it.
Having seen him off the premises, North returned unhurriedly to the morning-room, entering it in time to hear his sister-in-law say trenchantly: "You must be suffering from mental paralysis! You can't possibly hope to keep it from -'
She saw who was coming into the room, and snapped the sentence off in mid-air. North closed the door, tossed the newspaper he was still carrying on to the table, and said suavely: "What can't she possibly hope to keep from me?"
"Did I say from you?" demanded Sally.
"It was sufficiently obvious." He began methodically to fill a pipe. An uncomfortable silence fell. Helen was sitting with her gaze fixed on North's face, and her hands tightly clasped in her lap. As he restored his pouch to his pocket he raised his eyes, and for a moment looked steadily into hers. "Well? Isn't it so?"
She evaded the question. "What brought you home so unexpectedly, John?"
"Does that really interest you?" he inquired.
She said in a low, unsteady voice: "You came back to spy on me!"
A hard look came into his face. He said nothing, however, but felt in his pocket for matches, and began to light his pipe.
A less intense note was introduced by Miss Drew, who said brightly: "Would you by any chance like me to withdraw tactfully? I should hate to think I was cramping either of your styles."
"No, don't go!" Helen said. John and I have nothing private to discuss." She glanced up at North, and added with an attempt at nonchalance: "It would be interesting to know why you elected to come home in the middle of the morning. You can't have felt an overwhelming desire for my company, or you'd have come last night."
"No," he replied imperturbably. "We are rather beyond that, aren't we? I came when I read about Fletcher's murder."
"There! What did I tell you?" said Sally. "The answer to the maiden's prayer! Not that I'm fond of the protective type myself, but I should be if I were a pretty ninny like you, Helen."
"Oh, don't be absurd!" Helen said, a catch in her voice. "So you thought I might be mixed up in the murder, did you, John?"
He did not answer for a moment, but after a pause he said in his cool way: "No, I don't think I suspected that seriously until I found a Superintendent from Scotland Yard in the house."
She stiffened. "Surely you understand the reason for that! He came simply -'
"Yes, I understood." For the first time a harsh note sounded in his voice. "The Superintendent came to discover whether the woman's footprint in the garden was yours. Was it?"
"Count ten before you answer," recommended Sally, her eyes on North's grim face. Golly, she thought, this isn't going to be such plain sailing as I'd imagined.
"Oh, why can't you be quiet?" Helen cried sharply. "What are you trying to do?"
"Stop you telling useless lies. You may be all washedup, you two, but I don't see John letting you get pinched for murder if he can help it."
"I didn't murder him! I didn't! You can't think that!"
"Were the footprints yours?" North asked.
She got up jerkily. "Yes! They were mine!" she flung at him.
Sally gave a groan. "How not to break the news!" she said. "For God's sake, try to stop looking like something carved out of the solid rock, John! Holy mackerel, to think I've written books about people like you, and never believed a word of it!"
North disregarded her, addressing his wife. "No doubt I shall seem to you unwarrantably intrusive, but I should like to know why you visited Fletcher in this apparently clandestine fashion?"
"I went to see him because he's - he was - a friend of mine. There was nothing clandestine about our relations. I don't expect you to believe that, but it's true!"
Sally polished her eyeglass. "Questioned, Miss Sally Drew, an eminent writer of detective fiction, corroborated that statement."
"You are a somewhat partial witness, Sally," North said dryly. "Oh, don't look so belligerent, Helen! I merely asked out of curiosity. It's really quite beside the point. What seems to me to be more important is what, if anything, you know about the murder?"
"Nothing, nothing!"
"When were you with Fletcher?" he asked.
"Oh, early, quite early! I left his study at a quarter to ten. John, I know it sounds strange, but I went to see him on a perfectly trivial matter. I - I wanted to know if he'd go with me to the Dimberleys' affair next week, that's all."
He paid no heed to this, but picked up the newspaper and studied the front page. "I see that Fletcher's body was discovered at 10.05 p.m.," he remarked. He looked steadily across at his wife. "And you know nothing?"