Well, at any rate Jackson had finished with the pound note and was now very politely inviting the company to explain individually just what each of them was doing between the.hours of two and seven on the previous afternoon. No one making any demur, he proceeded to go round the circle clockwise.
“Miss-er-Miranda?”
She shook back her mass of dark red hair.
“Miranda,” she said deeply. “Neither Miss nor Mrs.-just Miranda.”
Inspector Jackson thought this was as odd a lot of people as he had ever come across. He avoided the issue.
“Just so. Perhaps you would not mind telling me what you were doing yesterday atternoon.”
“I don’t mind in the least-why should I? I went for a walk up over the common. I can’t say exactly when I started, or when I got back, but I had to turn on the lights when I came in, so I suppose it was about four o’clock.”
“Mr. Remington?”
Augustus heaved a sigh of utter boredom.
“My dear man, how repetitive! Haven’t we had all this before?… No? Well, I suppose I must take your word for it. These sordid journeys-a bus always seems to me to be one of the lower mechanical organisms! I do hope you don’t expect me to remember every time I go to Dedham or to Ledlington… Oh, just yesterday afternoon? Well, I will do what I can.” He turned to Miranda. “I suppose I did go into Ledlington yesterday afternoon?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Augustus! You know perfectly well you did. I saw you start, and you came back on the five o’clock bus with Gwyneth.”
“Ah, yes-my quest! It was successful. I found the exquisite shade which had eluded me for so long. But these things have no relation to time or space-I am sure you will understand that.”
He gazed earnestly at Jackson, who said bluntly,
“What bus did you go in by?”
“Would it have been the one-forty?” He once more appealed to Miranda.
She nodded curtly.
“If you caught it. I saw you start. I didn’t see you get on the bus, but you had plenty of time.”
He gave a sigh-of relief this time.
“There you are, Inspector! She always knows everything.”
Jackson went on grimly, but as might have been expected, Mr. Remington’s account of how he spent the afternoon was vague in the extreme. He had walked about and looked at the old houses. He had fulfilled his quest. He had seen Peveril Craddock’s car parked in the Market Square. Oh, no, he had no idea what time that was. He had had a cup of coffee in one of the shops, but he couldn’t say which. He had wandered into a picture shop and spent some time there looking at the work of a young artist who had evolved an entirely new technique-“Not yet fully developed of course, Inspector, but showing a definite aspiration towards the super-sensible.”
Inspector Jackson turned with relief to Mr. John Robinson.
“And you, sir?”
John Robinson sounded amused. He spoke with an intensification of his country drawl.
“I’m afraid I must plead guilty to having been in Ledlington too. But I didn’t take the bus. I used my bicycle, and-I’m afraid I can’t be very accurate about departure and arrival. I went out after my midday meal-but then I just have it when I’m hungry. And I didn’t intend to go into Ledlington at all-it was just a sudden whim. I meant to go up into the Rowbury Woods, but there was someone shooting there, so I turned off, and when I found I was getting near Ledlington I thought I might as well fetch up there.”
“Can you fix the time at all?”
“I suppose it was round about three. I can’t swear to it-my mind was rather taken up.”
“Round about three. And what did you do then, Mr. Robinson?”
“I dropped into the Museum and had a look round there. I’m interested in birds, you know, and they have the Hedlow collection.”
“How long do you suppose you stayed there?”
“Ah,” said John Robinson-“there you have me! I’m afraid I have no idea. Time, you know-very variable, as Remington says.” His words took on an imitative inflection. “ ‘Long lines of cliff, breaking, have left a chasm, and in the chasm are foam and yellow sands,’ as the poet remarks. You will, of course, see the application.” His eye went round the circle with a mocking gleam. “Museums do rather have that effect, you know-like some of the older Clubs-one passes into a trancelike state practically indistinguishable from death. The danger is that one might just be picked up and buried before one knew what was happening. I hope they would do it handsomely. ‘And the little port had seldom seen a costlier funeral.’ You will naturally recognize the quotation. One of Tennyson’s major lapses. I shouldn’t like anyone to think it was mine.”
Knowing his Miss Silver’s reverence for the great Victorian poet, Frank Abbott expected, and looked for, some mark of disapproval. What he saw was simply a frown, a frown of peculiar intensity. Mr. John Robinson sustained it. It was Miss Silver who looked away.
Inspector Jackson continued his interrogation.
Miss Gwyneth was able to give a most meticulous account of her blameless afternoon’s shopping. Miss Elaine had remained at home, where, after a brief rest, she had devoted herself to entertaining her young friend Miss Elliot.
Miss Silver stated that she had gone into Ledlington by the bus which arrived there just before three, had met an old friend with whom she spent the afternoon, and returned to Deeping by the bus which left at five. She was asked no further questions.
Mr. Craddock had awaited his turn in dignified silence. Asked now to give an account of his movements, he complied in the grand manner.
“I drove into Ledlington. I did not look at my watch, so I cannot give you the exact time. I was immersed in my literary labours, and did not join the family for lunch-when this happens Mrs. Craddock brings me a tray. When I had completed the passage upon which I was engaged I felt the need of some fresh air. I drove over to Ledlington and parked in the Market Square. I then walked about the town and made a few purchases -stamps at the post office, papers at the station-things like that. After which I picked up my car again and came home.”
Pressed by Jackson, he appeared to be quite as unable as Augustus Remington and John Robinson to fix the time either of his arrival or departure. The only thing he appeared to be sure about was that he had reached home before lighting-up time.
“I really have no more than that to say,” he concluded. “I might ask, and I think with justice, why we should be singled out for questioning in this manner. I do not mind saying that I resent it very strongly, not only on my own account, but on behalf of the Colony. I must tell you that we are well aware of our rights. We were under no obligation to submit to being interrogated in this manner. But we are law-abiding citizens, and we have nothing to hide.”
How much longer he might have continued to deliver himself of these rolling periods cannot be determined, because it was at this moment that Mr. John Robinson laughed. It appeared to be one of those spontaneous outbursts, a very natural, hearty, and uncontrollable laugh. He just threw back his head and let it go.