“It couldn’t hurt, could it? She could try a small dose. I’ll see, anyway.”
Hersey went away and returned in a few minutes to say that she had given Mrs. Compline half the amount prescribed. Nicholas offered to go up to his mother, but Hersey said she thought it better not to disturb her.
“She locked her door after me,” Hersey said. “She’s quite safe and I hope she’ll soon be asleep.”
Hersey asked for an account of the interview with Hart and Mandrake gave it to her. She listened in silence to the story of Thomas and the encounter in the hall.
“What about the Pirate?” she asked suddenly. “Is she enjoying her beauty-sleep under a good dollop of her own skin food, or does she know what’s happened?”
“If you mean Madame Lisse,” said Nicholas with a return to his old air of sulkiness, “I’ve told her. She’s frightfully upset.”
“That’s just too bad,” said Hersey.
“She’s Hart’s wife,” said Mandrake drearily. “Haven’t we told you?”
“What?”
“Don’t ask me why it was a secret. Something to do with face-lifting. It’s all too fantastically involved. Perhaps you knew, Compline?”
“I didn’t know. I don’t believe it,” said Nicholas dully, and nothing, Mandrake thought, could have shown more clearly the shock of William’s death than the amazing apathy with which this news was received. They discussed it halfheartedly and soon returned to the old theme.
“What I can’t understand,” said Chloris, “is why he did it. I know Bill had talked wildly about exposing him, but after all we knew about the Vienna business too. He couldn’t hope to frighten us into silence.”
“I think he’s mad,” said Nicholas. “I think it was simply that last outburst of anger at the wireless that sent him off at the deep end. I think he probably went into the room with the idea of screaming out at Bill as he had already screamed at me. And I think he had a sort of hysterical crisis and grabbed the nearest weapon and—” He caught his breath in a sort of sob and for the first time Mandrake felt genuinely sorry for him. ‘That’s what I think,” said Nicholas, ”and you can imagine what it feels like. I’d deliberately goaded him with the wireless. You heard me, Mandrake.” He looked from one to another of his listeners. ”How could I know? I suppose it was a silly thing to do, a rotten thing to do, if you like, but he’d been pretty foul with his threats and his booby-traps. It was me he was after, wasn’t it? How could I know he’d take it out on old Bill. How could I know?”
“Don’t, Nick,” said Hersey. “You couldn’t know.”
Mandrake said: “You needn’t blame yourself. You’ve got it wrong. Don’t you see, all of you? He came in at the hall door. William was sitting with his back to the door, bending over the radio. All Hart could see from there was the back of his tunic and the nape of his neck. A few minutes before, he had heard you, Compline, tell him, face to face, that you were going to use the radio if you wanted to. A few seconds later both Hart and I heard you say: ‘Oh, all right. Go to bed, Bill.’ There, when he entered the room, was a man in uniform bending over the controls. The only light in the room was over by the fireplace. Don’t you understand, all of you? When he struck at William Compline he thought he was attacking his brother.”
“Aubrey, my dear fellow,” said Jonathan. “I believe you are right. I am sure you are right. It is quite masterly. An admirable piece of reasoning.”
“It doesn’t get us over the hurdle, though,” said Mandrake. “He’s been too clever for us. You’ll have to talk to that man, Jonathan. If he saw Hart go upstairs and remained in the hall for any length of time afterwards, Hart’s got an alibi that we’re going to have a devilish job to break. What’s the time?”
“Five past eleven,” said Chloris.
“They won’t be in bed, yet, will they? You’d better send for him, Jo,” said Hersey.
Jonathan fidgeted and made little doubtful sounds.
“My dear Jo, you’ll have to tell the servants sometime.”
“I’ll go and speak to them in the servants’ hall.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Hersey. “I’d ring and speak to them here. I think we ought to be together when you talk to Thomas.
“After all,” said Hersey, ”I suppose if we can’t break Dr. Hart’s alibi, we’re all under suspicion.”
“My dear girl, that’s utterly preposterous. Please remember we were all together in this room when William produced the war news on the wireless. Or, which I think more likely, when Hart produced it.”
“No,” said Mandrake. “We’ve tried that. It won’t work. Jonathan, you went into the hall after the news began. Was Thomas there, then?”
“No,” shouted Jonathan, angrily, “of course he wasn’t. The hall was empty and there was no light in the ‘boudoir.’ I crossed the hall and went into the downstairs cloak-room. When I returned it was still empty.”
“Then perhaps his story about Thomas—”
“For Heaven’s sake,” cried Hersey, “let’s ask Thomas.”
After a good deal of demurring, Jonathan finally rang the bell. Caper answered it and accepted the news of sudden death and homicide with an aplomb which Mandrake had imagined to be at the command only of family servants in somewhat dated comedies. Caper said “Indeed, sir?” some five or six times with nicely varied inflexions. He then went in search of Thomas, who presently appeared, wearing the air of one who had crammed himself hastily into his coat. He was a pale young man with damp waves in his hair. Evidently he had been primed by Caper, for he was not quite able to conceal a certain air of avidity. He answered Jonathan’s questions promptly and sensibly. Yes, he had met Dr. Hart in the hall as he brought the tray. Dr. Hart come out of the “boudoir” as Thomas walked up the passage and into the rear of the hall. He was quite positive it was the “boudoir.” He had noticed that the lights were out. He had noticed light coming from under the door into the smoking-room. Before Thomas entered the library Dr, Hart had reached the stairs and he turned on the wall switch belonging to the stair lamps. When Thomas came out of the library Dr. Hart had reached the. visitors’-room flight. Thomas stayed in the hall. He locked the front doors, made up the fire and tidied the tables. In answer to a question from Mandrake, he said that he heard music from the radio in the smoking-room.
“What sort of music?” asked Mandrake.
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“Did you recognize the music?”
“Boomps-a-Daisy, sir,” said Thomas unhappily.
“Well, go on, go on,” said Jonathan. “You went away then, I suppose.”
“No, sir.”
“What the devil did you do with yourself, hanging about the hall?” demanded Jonathan, who was beginning to look extremely uneasy.
“Well, sir, excuse me, sir, I–I…”
“You what?”
“I went through the movements, sir. ‘Hands, knees,’ in time to the music, sir. I don’t know why, I’m sure, sir. It just came over me. Only for a minute, like, because the music only lasted a very short time, sir, and then it was turned off.”
“Cavorting about the hall like a buck-rabbit!” said Jonathan.
“I’m sure I’m very sorry, sir.”
For a moment Jonathan seemed to be extraordinarily put out by this confession of animal spirits on the part of Thomas, but suddenly he made one of his quick pounces and cried out triumphantly: “Aha! So you were dancing, Thomas, were you? An abrupt attack of joie de vivre? And why not? Why not? You were intent upon it, I daresay. Turning this way and that, eh? I suppose it would take you right across the hall. I’m not very familiar with the dance, I must confess, but I imagine it’s pretty lively, what?”