"Sorry, Mr. Stratton, sir, were you wanting anything?"
"Yes, we're going to take these chairs and things into the house, in case it rains later. It's April, you know."
"I'm sorry, sir," said the constable portentously, "but the inspector said for me to see that nothing wasn't moved up here."
"He did?" Roger could not tell whether Stratton was really surprised or was only acting surprise; in either case he sounded highly surprised "But why?"
"Couldn't tell you, sir. But that's what he said. Nothing to be moved, nor touched. He left me here for the purpose."
"What on earth . . ." said Stratton and lifted his eyebrows at Roger.
"But surely Inspector Crane didn't mean that nothing was to be touched on the whole roof, Constable?" Roger came to the rescue.
"Sorry, sir, those are my orders. Nothing to be moved on this roof, nor yet touched."
"Oh, well!" Roger shrugged his shoulders. "There must be some mistake, I think, but you'll have to wait for the inspector to put it right, Ronald. Inspector Crane will be coming back soon, I take it, as he's left you here?" he added to the constable.
"'Bout half an hour, he said, sir."
"I see. Well, Ronald, we must just wait, that's all. Shall we go in?"
As they went down the stairs, Ronald said: "Surely that's rather queer, Sheringham, isn't it?"
"Oh, no, I don't think so," Roger replied. "Probably the superintendent has told Crane he'd like to have a look at the scene before things are moved, and Crane's gone off to get him."
"But Crane didn't say anything last night about things not being moved on the roof, when I took him up there."
"Well, he hadn't seen the superintendent then, had he?" Roger said smoothly. But he felt a little uneasy. It certainly was rather queer.
Downstairs they found Colin, reading the Sunday Times in front of the hall fire. "Hullo, Colin, all alone?" said Ronald. "None of the women down yet?"
"No, nor Osbert either, the lazy hound. Oh, by the way, Ronald, I told you I'd be pushing off after lunch. Sorry, I've got to change my plans. I'll be staying tonight."
"Well, we shall be very glad to have you, Colin. Decided your appointment wasn't so urgent after all?"
"Not a bit of it. I met that inspector chap as I was coming in just now, and he asked me was it a fact that I was going off after lunch? I said it was; and he told me there was nothing doing, or words to that effect."
"Told you you couldn't go?" Ronald said incredulously.
"Well, not quite like that. He said I should probably be wanted at the inquest tomorrow, and it would be a great convenience to him if I stayed; so of course I said I would. But if I'd said I couldn't, I wouldn't put it past him to have told me I'd jolly well got to. He had that sort of look in his eye."
"The devil he had!" said Ronald.
The half - hour passed slowly, and as it passed Roger's uneasiness grew. He knew the signs, and be knew the ways of the police. The inspector was not satisfied: that was quite obvious. But what on earth could have managed to rouse his dissatisfaction? If it was just the position of the chair, then that really was the most thundering bad luck; for had everything been as innocent as it could be, it was inevitable that the chair should have been kicked about a bit, with four men scrimmaging round it. The inspector could hardly have expected that it could have been left quite untouched.
No, in spite of his deferential manner Inspector Crane must be a busybody. With a death at such a house as Sedge Park, he saw his chance of making himself important. If he could find a few niggling points over which to raise queries, he could get his name put forward as a keen man. And the devil of it was that, without knowing it, Inspector Crane might be carrying a match towards a powder magazine. If he really did begin to uncover the surface, heaven knew what train he might not fire. Roger hoped most sincerely, and with all the fervour of a guilty conscience, that Inspector Crane's match might prove a damp one.
The same constraint seemed to be resting on the others as on himself. They sat, in gloomy silence, round the big open fireplace and rustled their newspapers; but it was doubtful if any of the three read very much. As the time passed, Roger began to feel more and more like a schoolboy before a house match: that nasty sensation of sick emptiness. And if he felt like that, what must Ronald Stratton be feeling?
For Ronald's reception of the warning about the chair had gone all the way to confirm Roger's conclusion. There had been real fear on the face that Ronald had shown him: and in these circumstances fear could surely be caused only by a knowledge of guilt, either on his own behalf or David's. Well, Roger would do all he possibly could for him, but there might be some awkward times ahead, with this infernal inspector raking over the dung heap. It would look bad, uncommonly bad, if the man brought to light the feelings with which the Stratton family in general had regarded Ena; and precious little raking would be needed to do that.
A few minutes after twelve o'clock Mr. Williamson appeared, looking perhaps a trifle yellow round the eyes, and, with a perfunctory remark or two, added himself to the silent circle. Again the rustling of newspapers was the only sound in the hall.
Once Ronald Stratton betrayed his anxiety by a muttered remark. "I thought the constable said Crane would be back in half an hour? It's forty minutes already since he went."
At twenty - five minutes past twelve Ronald's parlourmaid presented herself at Williamson's side and said, in a flat voice which must have masked much interior fluttering: "I beg your pardon, sir, but Inspector Crane would like to speak to you for a moment, on the roof."
"What? To me, did you say? He wants to speak to me?"
"If you please, sir."
"Inspector Crane?" Stratton repeated. "I didn't know he was here, Edith."
"Yes, sir. He came about a quarter of an hour ago, with Superintendent Jamieson and another gentleman."
"But I never saw them come, and I've been in here all the time."
"They came to the back door, sir."
"But why didn't you tell me?"
"They said they were just going up to the roof for a minute or two, sir, and it wasn't necessary to disturb you, so I didn't think to tell you."
"I see. Well, if they come - if anyone comes like that another time, Edith, I think you'd better let me know."
"Very good, sir."
"What's up?" asked Williamson, as the parlourmaid disappeared. "Eh? What's it all about? What's he want to see me for? I saw him last night and told him everything I knew. What's he want to see me again for?"
"I don't know, Osbert, but presumably you'd better go."
"Yes, I suppose I had. Well, I wonder what the devil he wants to see me for."
Williamson began to climb the staircase which led up from one end of the big hall.
Roger watched his back in an agonized way. He was quite sure there was some terribly important thing he must say to Williamson before the interview, some warning hint he must give him which would smooth everything out. There was such a thing, but his mind seemed paralysed. He could think of nothing at all. In a kind of hopeless despair he watched Williamson out of sight.
"Well," Ronald muttered, "and what the deuce do you make of that?"
Colin looked at them over the huge hornrimmed spectacles he used for reading. "Dirty work in the camp?" he asked tentatively.
"Don't know yet," Roger answered, in a tone to discourage further questions in front of Ronald.
Ronald made a movement as if to rise. "Shall I go up?" he asked.
"Better not," Roger said. "They obviously don't want you."
"The superintendent has come, then."