"Don't be coarse, precious: the Sergeant isn't mealymouthed, but he doesn't like to hear young women being vulgar."
"What I'd like to hear," said the Sergeant, "is the truth of this story you're trying to gammon me with!"
"Of course you would," said Neville sympathetically. "And just because I like you, I'll tell you. I went round by stealth to tell Mrs. North that my uncle had been murdered."
The Sergeant's jaw dropped. "You went round to tell - And why, may I ask?"
"Well, obviously it was important to her to know, on account of her sordid financial transactions with Uncle Ernie," explained Neville.
"So you knew about that, did you, sir?"
"Yes, didn't I make that clear? I was her accomplice."
"And a damned bad one!" struck in Sally.
"She shouldn't have bullied me into it. I don't wonder you look surprised, Sergeant. You're perfectly right, it wasn't in my line at all. However, I did try to make my uncle disgorge the IOUs. That's what Simmons meant when he told you that he heard my uncle telling me to go to hell, before dinner." He paused, watching the Sergeant through his long lashes. "You know, you're awfully quick," he told him. "I can see that you've hardly finished thinking that that gives me a motive for having committed the murder, before your mind has grasped the flaw in that theory. Not, mind you, that I could have got hold of those IOUs, even if I had murdered my uncle. I haven't actually tried, but I'm pretty sure I couldn't open a safe. Miss Drew could - at least, she says she could, but I noticed that when it came to the point she went to pieces a bit. That's the worst of women: they can never carry anything in their heads. If she had had her criminal notes with her she would have made some very violent stuff which she calls soup, and blown the safe up. You mustn't think I encouraged her, because though I may look effeminate I'm not really, and the sort of primeval crudity which characterises the female mind nauseates me."
The Sergeant, who had listened to this remarkable speech with an air of alert interest, said: "And why, sir, did you think it was so important that Mrs. North should know that your uncle was dead?"
"Well, naturally it was important," said Neville patiently. "You people were bound to discover the IOUs, and if you don't think that their presence in my uncle's safe was extremely incriminating, why on earth did your Superintendent go and grill the poor girl?"
The Sergeant stared at him, unable immediately to think of a suitable rejoinder. He was relieved of the necessity of answering.
"Why boasteth thou thyself in mischief, 0 mighty man?" demanded the condemnatory voice of PC Glass.
Chapter Eight
The Sergeant, who had not heard his subordinate's approach across the lawn, jumped, but Neville proved himself to be Glass's equal by retorting without an instant's hesitation: "Am I a sea or a whale that thou settest a watch over me?"
This question, delivered as it was in a tone of pained surprise, took Glass aback, and had also the effect of warming the Sergeant's heart towards Neville.
Miss Drew said dispassionately: "The devil can quote Scripture for his own use. All the same, that's a jolly good bit. Where did you find it?"
"Job," responded Neville. "I found some other good bits, too, but unfortunately they aren't quite drawingroom."
"Whoso despiseth the Word," announced Glass, recovering from the shock of having been answered in kind, "shall be destroyed!"
"That'll do!" intervened the Sergeant. "You go and wait for me in the drive, Glass!" He waited until the constable had withdrawn, and then said: "Well, sir, you've told me a very straightforward story, but what I'm asking myself is, why didn't you tell it before?"
"You didn't notice the espalier before," said Neville.
"It might be better for you, sir, if you told the truth about your doings on the night of the murder without waiting to be questioned," suggested the Sergeant, with a touch of severity.
"Oh no! You'd have thought it very fishy if I'd been as expansive as all that," said Neville.
Upon reflection, the Sergeant privately agreed with him. However, all he said was that Neville would be wise not to try to be too clever with the police.
"You may be right," answered Neville, "but your Superintendent said that no good would come of my taking the Press to my bosom, and lots of good came of it. I've got my picture in the papers."
"You have?" said the Sergeant, diverted in spite of himself. "What, you're not going to tell me they went and printed all that International spy stuff?"
"No," replied Neville regretfully. "Not that, but one of the eager brotherhood really thought I was the Boots."
Sally gave a crow of mirth. "Neville, is that what you told them? Oh, do let me see your interview!"
"I will, if the Sergeant doesn't mind putting off my arrest for ten minutes."
The Sergeant said: "You know very well I've got nothing to arrest you on, sir."
"But wouldn't you love to do it?" murmured Neville.
"You get along with you, sir," recommended the Sergeant.
To his relief, Neville obeyed his command, linking his arm in Sally's, and strolling away with her towards the house. Out of earshot, she said: "You spilled more than I bargained for."
"Diverting his mind."
"I hope to God you didn't say too much."
"Yes, so do I," agreed Neville. "One comfort is that we shall soon know. How's the heroine of this piece doing?"
"If you mean Helen -'
"I do, darling, and if one of your sisterly fits is coming on, go home and do not bore me with it."
"Gosh, how I do dislike you!" exclaimed Sally.
"Well, you're not singular," said Neville comfortingly. "In fact, I'm getting amazingly unpopular. Aunt Lucy gets gooseflesh whenever she sets eyes on me."
"I'm not surprised. I must say, I think -'
"What compels you?" inquired Neville.
"Oh shut up! I will say that I think it's fairly low of you to get yourself photographed as the Boots. Miss Fletcher's got enough to bear without your antics being added to the rest."
"Not at all," he replied. "My poor aunt was becoming lachrymose, and no pleasure to herself or me. The paper that printed my story, carefully imported into the house by me, has been another of my diversions. Indignation not profitable, but better than aimless woe. How's Helen?"
"She's all right," said Sally, a note of reserve in her voice.
A sleepy but intelligent eye was cocked at her. "Ah, the atmosphere a trifle strained? I wondered why you came round here."
"It wasn't that at all. I wanted to take another look at the lay-out. And I thought it might be a good thing to evaporate for a bit. John's not going up to town till after lunch."
"Don't tell me it's a necking-party!" said Neville incredulously.
She gave a short laugh. "No. But I'm giving it a chance to become one. If only John weren't so - so idiotically unapproachable!"
"These strong men! Oh, do tell me! If it turns out to be John who killed Ernie, do we seek to cover up the evidence of his guilt, or not?"
She did not answer, but, as they reached the drawingroom window, pulled her arm away from his, and said abruptly: "Are you capable of speaking the truth, Neville?"
"Didn't you hear me just now, speaking the truth to the Sergeant?"
"That was different. What I want to know is this, are you in love with Helen?"
"Oh, God give me strength!" moaned Neville. "A chair - brandy - a basin! Romance, as pictured by Sally Drew! Tell me, does anyone really read your works?"
"All very well," said Sally, critically surveying him. "But you're quite a good actor, and I can't get it out of my head that you agreed to try and wrest those IOUs from Ernie. I haven't before seen you falling over yourself to render assistance to people."