Hannasyde looked a little non-plussed, but said: "You did not, then, apply to your uncle for funds to meet your liabilities?"
"Oh no!"
"Did you perhaps know that it would be useless?"
"But it wouldn't have been," objected Neville.
"Your uncle had not warned you that he would not be responsible for your debts?"
Neville reflected. "I don't think so. But I do remember that he was most annoyed about an episode in my career that happened in Budapest. It was all about a Russian woman, and I didn't really want Ernie to interfere. But he had a lot of hidebound ideas about the honour of the name, and prison being the final disgrace, and he would insist on buying me out. He didn't like me being County Courted either. I've always thought it would probably save a lot of bother to be declared bankrupt, but Ernie couldn't see it in that light at all. However, I don't want to speak ill of the dead, and I expect he meant well."
"Unpaid bills do not worry you, Mr. Fletcher?"
"Oh, no! One can always fly the country," said Neville, with one of his sleepy smiles.
Hannasyde looked rather searchingly at him. "I see. A novel point of view."
"Is it? I wouldn't know," said Neville innocently.
Helen, who had been leaning back in her chair, as though exhausted, suddenly said: "But I don't see how it could have been Neville. It isn't a bit like him, and anyway, how could he have done it in the time? He wasn't anywhere in sight when I left the house."
"Peeping at you over the banisters, darling," explained. Neville. "When you think that Helen was in the study at 10.00 p.m., and my dear friend Malachi at 10.05, I had a lot of luck, hadn't I? What do you think, Superintendent?"
"I think," said Hannasyde, "that you had better consider your position very carefully, Mr. Fletcher."
Chapter Thirteen
"What do you suppose he meant by that?" asked Neville, as the door closed behind Baker, ushering Superintendent Hannasyde out.
"Trying to rattle you," replied Sally briefly.
"Well, he's succeeded," said Neville. "I'm glad I ate that handsome breakfast before he came, for I certainly couldn't face up to it now."
"Talking of breakfast -'began North.
"How insensate of you, if you are!" said Neville. "Helen, darling, you have such a fertile imagination: are you quite sure you really saw Ernie showing his strange visitor out?"
"Of course I'm sure! What would be the point of making up such a tale?"
"If it comes to that, what was the point of deceiving John all this time?" said Neville reasonably. "Irrational lunacy - that's tautology, but let it stand - peculiar to females."
She smiled, but replied defensively: "It wasn't irrational. I know now it was silly, but I - I had a definite reason."
"It would be nice to know what that was," he remarked.
"Or no, on second thoughts, it would probably tax my belief too far. Only inference left to John was that you had committed what the legal profession so coyly calls misconduct with Ernie. Sally and I nearly wrote him an anonymous letter, divulging the whole truth."
"In some ways, I wish you had," said North. "If you will allow me to say so, it would have been far more helpful than your efforts to get your uncle to give back those IOUs. I've no doubt your spirit was willing, but -'
"Then you know very little about me," interrupted Neville. "My spirit was not in the least willing. I was hounded into it, and just look at the result! Being regarded as a sort of good Samaritan, which in itself is likely to lead to hideous consequences, is the least of the ills likely to befall me."
"I'm terribly sorry," sighed Helen, "but even though you didn't get my notes back, and we did land ourselves in a mess, my bringing you into it did lead to good. If I hadn't, John and I might never have come together again."
Neville closed his eyes, an expression on his face of acute anguish. "What a thought! How beautifully put! I shall not have died in vain. Ought I to be glad?"
"Look here!" Sally interposed. "It's no use regretting what you've done. You've got to think about what you're going to do next. It's obvious that the police suspect you pretty hotly. On the other hand, it's equally obvious that they haven't got enough evidence against you to allow of their applying for a warrant for your arrest. The question is: can they collect that evidence?"
Neville opened his eyes, and looked at her in undisguised horror. "Oh, my God, the girl thinks I did it!"
"No, I don't, I've got an open mind on the subject," said Sally bluntly. "If you did it, you must have had a darned good reason, and you have my vote."
"Have I?" Neville said, awed. "And what about my second victim?"
"As I see it," replied Sally, "the second victim - we won't call him yours just yet - knew too much about the first murder, and had to be disposed of. Unfortunate, of course, but, given the first murder, I quite see it was inevitable."
Neville drew a deep breath. "The weaker sex!" he said. "When I recall the rubbish that has been written about women all through the ages, it makes me feel physically unwell. Relentless, primitive savagery! Inability to embrace abstract ideas of right and wrong utterly disruptive to society. Preoccupation with human passions nauseating and terrifying."
Sally replied calmly: "I think you're probably right. When it comes to the point we chuck all the rules overboard. Abstractions don't appeal to us much. We're more practical than you, and - yes, I suppose more ruthless. I don't mean that I approve of murder, and I daresay if I read about these two in the papers I should have thought them a trifle thick. But it makes a difference when you know the possible murderer. You'd think me pretty rotten if I shunned you just because you'd killed one man I loathed, and another whom I didn't even know existed."
"I'm afraid, Sally, you're proving Neville's point for him," said North, faintly smiling. "The fact that he is a friend of yours should not influence your judgment."
"Oh, that's absolute rot!" said Sally. "You might just as well expect Helen to have hated you when she thought you were the murderer."
"So I might," he agreed, apparently still more amused.
"Well, we've wandered from the point, anyway," she said. "I want to know whether the police can possibly discover more evidence against you, Neville."
"There isn't any evidence! I keep on telling you I had nothing to do with it!" he said.
"Who had, then?" she demanded. "Who could have had?"
"Oh, the mystery man!" he said airily.
"With what motive?"
"Same as John's. Crime passionnel."
"What, more IOUs?"
"No. Jealousy. Revenge. All the hall-marks of a passionate murder, don't you think?"
"It's an idea," she said, knitting her brows. "Do you happen to know if he'd done the dirty on anyone?"
"Naturally I don't. I should have spilt the whole story, dear idiot. But lots of pretty ladies in Ernie's life."
"You think some unknown man murdered him because of a woman? It sounds quite plausible, but how on earth did he manage to do it in the time?"
"Not having been there, I can't say. You work it out."
"The point is, will the Superintendent be able to work it out?" she said.
"A much more important point to me is, will he be able to work out how I could have committed both murders?" retorted Neville.
Both points were exercising the Superintendent's mind at that moment. Having told PC Glass in a few well-chosen words what he thought of his conduct in condemning the morals of his betters, he set off with him towards the police station.
"The Lord," announced Glass severely, "said unto Moses, say unto the children of Israel, Ye are a stiffnecked people: I will come up into the midst of thee in a moment, and consume thee."