The old man can be pretty brutal. He stood up to it all right so far, though. Too well for a man who has just discovered the body of his girl. If she was his girl." ‹I shall get the full post-mortem report in due course," said Dalgleish equably. "I was interested in your assessment of the time of death."
"It was a fairly warm night despite the rain. I should say not less than five hours nor more than eight."
"Did you kill Sally Jupp, Doctor?"
"No."
"Do you know who did?"
"No."
"What were your movements from the time that you finished dinner on Saturday night until Miss Bowers called you this morning with the news that Sally Jupp's door was bolted?"
"We had our coffee in the drawingroom. At about nine o'clock my mother suggested that we should start counting the money. It was in the safe here in the business room. I thought they might be happier without me and I was feeling restless, so I went out for a walk. I told my mother that I might be late and asked her to leave the south door open for me. I hadn't any particular idea in mind, but as soon as I'd left the house I felt I should like to see Sam Bocock. He lives alone in the cottage at the far end of the home meadow. I walked through the garden and over the meadow to his cottage and stayed there with him until pretty late. I can't exactly remember when I left, but he may be able to help. I think it was just after eleven. I walked back alone, entered the louse through the south door, bolted it behind me and went to bed. That's all."
"Did you go straight home?"
The almost imperceptible hesitation was not lost on Dalgleish.
"Yes."
"That means you would have been back in the house by when?"
"It's only five minutes' walk from Bocock's cottage, but I didn't hurry. I suppose I was indoors and in bed by eleven-thirty."
"It's a pity that you can't be precise about the time, Dr. Maxie. It's also, surely, surprising in view of the fact that you have a small clock on your bedside table with a luminous dial." ‹I may have. That doesn't mean that I always take a note of the times I sleep or get up."
"You spent about two hours with Mr.
Bocock. What did you talk about?"
"Horses and music mainly. He has a rather fine record-player. We listened to his new record - Klemperer conducting the Eroica to be precise."
"Are you in the habit of visiting Mr.
Bocock and spending the evening with him?"
"Habit? Bocock was groom to my grandfather. He's my friend. Don't you visit your friends when you feel like it, Inspector, or haven't you any?"
It was the first flash of temper.
Dalgleish's face showed no emotion, not even satisfaction. He pushed a small square of paper across the table. On it were three minute splinters of glass.
These were found in the outhouse opposite Miss Jupp's room, where you say that the ladder is normally kept. Do you know what they are?"
Stephen Maxie bent forward and studied this exhibit without apparent interest.
"They're splinters of glass obviously. I can't tell you any more about them. They could be part of a broken watch-glass I suppose."
"Or part of one of the smashed glass animals from Miss Jupp's room."
"Presumably."
"I see you are wearing a small piece of plaster across your right knuckle. What's wrong?"
"I grazed myself slightly when I was coming home last night. I brushed my hand against the bark of a tree. At least, that's the most probable explanation. I can't remember it happening and only noticed the blood when I got to my room.
I stuck this plaster on before I went to bed and I'd normally have taken it off by now. The graze wasn't really worth bothering about, but I have to look after my hands."
"May I see, please?"
Maxie came forward and placed his hand, palm down, on the desk. Dalgleish noted that it did not tremble. He picked at the corner of the plaster and ripped it off.
Together they inspected the whitened knuckle underneath. Maxie still showed no sign of anxiety, but scrutinized his hand with the air of a connoisseur condescendingly inspecting an exhibit which was hardly worthy of his attention.
He picked up the discarded plaster, folded it neatly and flicked it accurately into the waste-paper basket.
"That looks like a cut to me," said Dalgleish. "Or it could, of course, be a scratch from a fingernail."
"It could, of course," agreed his suspect easily. "But if it were wouldn't you expect to find blood and skin under the nail which did the scratching? I'm sorry I can't remember how it happened." He looked at it again and added. "It certainly looks like a small cut but it's ridiculously small. In two days it won't be visible. Are you sure you don't want to photograph it?"
"No thank you," said Dalgleish. "We've had something rather more serious to photograph upstairs."
It gave him considerable satisfaction to watch the effect of his words. While he was in charge of this case none of his suspects need think that they could retreat into private worlds of detachment or cynicism from the horror of what had laid on the bed upstairs. He waited for a moment and then continued remorselessly. ‹I want to be perfectly clear about this south door. It leads directly to the flight of stairs which go up to the old nursery.
To that extend Miss Jupp slept in a part of the house which can be said to have its own entrance. Almost a self-contained flat in effect. Once the kitchen quarters were closed for the night she could let a visitor in through that door with little risk of discovery. If the door were left unbolted a visitor could gain entrance to her door with reasonable ease. Now you say that the south door was left unbolted for you from nine o'clock when you had finished dinner until shortly after 11 p.m. when you returned from Mr. Bocock's cottage.
During that time is it true to say that anyone could have gained access to the house through the south door?"
"Yes. I suppose so."
"Surely you know definitely whether they could or not, Mr. Maxie?"
"Yes, they could. As you probably saw, the door has two heavy inside bolts and a mortice lock. We haven't used the lock for years. There are keys somewhere, I suppose. My mother might know. We normally keep the door closed during the day and bolt it at night. In the winter it is usually kept bolted all the time and is hardly used. There is another door into the kitchen quarters. We're rather slack about locking up, but we've never had any trouble here. Even if we did lock the doors carefully the house wouldn't be burglar-proof. Anyone could get in through the french windows in the drawing-room. We do lock them, but the glass could easily be broken. It has never seemed worthwhile worrying too much about security."
"And, in addition to this ever-open door, there was a convenient ladder in the old stable block?"
Stephen Maxie gave a slight shrug.
"It has to be kept somewhere. We don't lock up the ladders just in case someone gets the idea of using them to get through the windows."
"We have no evidence yet that anyone did. I am still interested in that door.
Would you be prepared to swear that it was unbolted when you returned from Mr. Bocock's cottage?"
"Of course. Otherwise I couldn't have got in."
Dalgleish said quickly, "You realize the importance of determining at what time you finally bolted that door?"
"Of course."
"I'm going to ask you once more what time you bolted it and I advise you to think very carefully before you reply."
Stephen Maxie looked at him straight in the eye and said almost casually.
"It was thirty-three minutes past twelve by my watch. I wasn't able to get to sleep and at twelve-thirty I suddenly remembered that I hadn't locked up. So I got out of bed and did so. I didn't see anyone or hear anything and I went straight back to my room. It was no doubt very careless of me, but if there's a law against forgetting to lock up I should like to hear of it."