"It's all right," said Sally. "I'm not going to obliterate the prints, or anything like that. I only want to get an idea of what anyone hidden here, in the dark, could actually see. I'm interested in crime."
"Remove thy foot from evil," recommended Glass severely. "These things are in the hands of the police."
"Don't you bother your head about me: I've made a study of murder. I may be able to help," said Sally.
"Like me," murmured Neville. "I tried to help, but no one was grateful."
A cold eye was bent upon him. "Bread of deceit is sweet to a man," said Glass. "But afterwards," he added forebodingly, "his mouth shall be filled with gravel."
Sally, having by this time satisfied herself that very little could be seen from behind the currant bush, emerged. "Is that out of the Bible?" she inquired. "Nearly all the best things are, except those that come out of Shakespeare. Can I go into the study, Neville?"
"Do!" he said cordially.
"What is your business here?" demanded Glass. "Why do you desire to enter that room?"
"I'm a novelist," explained Sally. "Crime stories."
"You were better at home," he said sombrely, but made no further attempt to stop her.
Followed by Neville, who had produced a Bible from his pocket, and was swiftly flicking the pages over, Sally entered the study, and stood just inside the window, looking round. Neville sat down on the edge of the desk, absorbed in his search through the Proverbs.
"Where was he found?" Sally said abruptly.
Neville jerked his head in the direction of the chair behind the desk.
"Facing the window?"
"Yes. Don't bother me!"
"Actually seated in his chair?"
"Mm. I've got a goodish bit here about the lips of the strange woman, but that's not the one I want."
"And the murderer is supposed to have entered by way of the window, which Ernie was directly facing?"
"Flattery is the tongue of the strange woman… no, that's not it."
"Oh, do take your head out of that! Don't you see that if the murderer entered by way of the window Ernie must have been entirely unsuspicious? He apparently didn't even get up from his chair!"
"Got it!" said Neville triumphantly. "She is loud and stubborn; her feet abide not in her house. That's you. I'm going to tell Glass." He slid off the edge of the table, and departed in search of the policeman.
Left alone, Sally sat down in an armchair, dropped her chin in her cupped hands, and frowned upon her surroundings. Neville soon reappeared, saying: "He reproved me. Seemed to know the context."
"What was that?" asked Sally absently.
"Not polite. Only two kinds of women in the OT. This was the other kind. Solved the whole mystery?"
"No, but as I see it one fact stands out a mile. It wasn't John."
"All right; have it your own way."
"Yes, but don't you see?" she insisted. "Ernie wasn't expecting to be murdered. If John had walked in, wouldn't he - No, I suppose it doesn't absolutely follow. One doesn't expect even jealous husbands to murder one."
"Oh, is John jealous?" said Neville. "I thought he was quite complaisant."
"That's what a great many people think, but -' She stopped. "Forget it!"
"Crediting me with an earnest desire to incriminate Honest John?" inquired Neville. "Non-existent, believe me."
"Nevertheless I should probably be wise not to say too much to you," said Sally bluntly.
"That's all right with me too," he assured her. "As a subject for conversation, I find that Ernie's murder palls on one."
She looked at him. "You're a cold-blooded fish, Neville. I didn't like Ernie, but gosh, I'm sorry for him!"
"What a waste of emotion!" he remarked. "What's the use of being sorry for a dead man?"
"There's something in that," she admitted. "But it's hardly decent to say so. Oh, damn it all, this is a rotten mess! Why the dickens couldn't you have got hold of those IOUs before it all happened?"
"Oh, have they been found?" said Neville.
"Of course they have!"
John pleased?"
"He doesn't know anything about them. Helen won't tell him."
He blinked. "Let me get this straight, just in case of accidents. What is Helen's story?"
"That she went round to see Ernie on some trivial matter. Yes, I know it's insane, but she probably knows her own business best. John wasn't particularly encouraging, and as he's apparently rabid on the subject of gambling and debts, I daresay she's right not to tell him. If you run into John, you'd better know nothing about it."
"You go home and tell Helen about the bread of deceit," said Neville. "I don't think she's being very clever."
"No, poor darling, but she's all in. I've left her on her bed, and I hope she'll be feeling a bit better by the time I get back - more able to cope. I don't think she slept much last night."
"Well, let's hope she doesn't do anything silly," said Neville. "She probably will, but with any luck she'll merely confuse the issue."
"She happens to be my sister," said Sally frigidly.
"Yes, it's the best thing I know of her," agreed Neville. Sally, taken by surprise, showed signs of being over come.
"And the worst thing I know of you," added Neville dulcetly.
Sally cast him a withering look, and left the study to exercise her charm on the younger of the two policemen still searching the shrubbery.
Helen, meanwhile, was not, as her sister had supposed, upon her bed, but closeted with Superintendent Hannasyde at the police station.
Upon Sally's leaving the house, she had lain for some few minutes, thinking. After glancing once or twice at the telephone she had at last sat up in bed, with the sudden energy of one who has come to a difficult decision, and lifted the receiver off its rest. "I want to be put through to the police station," she told the operator calmly.
She was connected almost immediately, and asked for Superintendent Hannasyde. The voice at the other end of the wire desired her, somewhat suspiciously, to divulge her identity. She hesitated, and then said: "I am Mrs. John North. If Superintendent Hannasyde -'
"Old on a minute!" said the voice.
She waited. Presently a fresh voice addressed her, and she recognised the Superintendent's even tones.
She hurried into speech. "Superintendent, this is Mrs. North speaking. I wonder if I could see you? There's something I wish to tell you."
"Certainly," he replied. "I'll come up to your house."
She glanced at her watch. "No, don't do that. I have to go into town and I can quite easily call in at the police station, if that would be convenient to you?"
"Quite convenient," he said.
"Thank you. I'll be there in about twenty minutes, then. Goodbye!"
She laid the receiver down and, flinging back the eiderdown, slid off the bed on to the floor. She pulled up the blinds which Sally had so thoughtfully lowered, and in the relentless glare of sunlight sat down at her dressing-table, and studied her face in the mirror. It was pale, with shadowed eyes. "Heavens! What a guilty looking sight!" she said under her breath, and with quick, nervous hands, pulled open a drawer and exposed an array of face-creams, lotions, and cosmetics.
Ten minutes later she was pulling on her gloves, her eyes resting critically on her own reflection. Her makeup had been delicately achieved; the face that confronted her from under the brim of a shady hat was faintly tinged with colour, the corn-coloured curls neatly arranged in a cluster in her neck, the eyebrows lightly pencilled, the lovely mouth a glow of red.
On her way down the stairs she encountered her maid, who exclaimed at her, bemoaning the fact that Madam was not resting after all.
"No, I've got to go out," Helen answered. "If Miss Drew should get back before me, tell her I've gone into the town, will you, but shall be back for tea."