“I want to check these other people,” Flash said grimly. “Miss Minetta, where were you when your brother was killed?”
“In my room,” she snapped.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff broke in, “Where was this blonde?”
“In the north drawing room with me,” Flash answered.
“I was in the music room,” Cheseldine said.
“Can any of you,” Sheriff Hegg asked, “prove that you were where you say you were?”
There was no answer to this.
“In other words,” he said, “not one of you except Miss Hopper has an alibi. And every one of you had a motive.” He walked over to Cheseldine. “Tell me, who was it beat you up.?”
“Mr. Africa.”
“What for?”
The man from Hongkong answered angrily, “It’s none of your damned business.”
Flash said, “Mr. Africa sent for me tonight in connection with it. Mr. Cheseldine was writing notes to Mrs. Africa, begging her to elope with him. Mr. Africa found one of these notes — and beat him up.” And as he said this, he remembered Cheseldine’s words, “Tell him, if we ever meet again, to watch out... I’ll kill him!”
Sheriff Hegg had folded his long thin arms on his chest and was glaring at the man from Hongkong.
“So you were in the music room, eh?”
“I was.”
“Who discovered the murder?” Miss Hopper burst out. “Ask him that!”
“I did,” Cheseldine said. “I heard a terrific thumping and banging across the hall. I ran out just before it stopped. It had seemed to come from the study. I went in there — and found him dead.”
“And you broke down and cried like a baby,” the sheriff said, sarcastically.
Miss Minetta broke in, “Maybe he helped plan it, but he didn’t do it. It was that woman who did it!”
“That’s my opinion,” Sheriff Hegg emphatically agreed. “Now, Mrs. Africa—”
“Just a moment,” Flash interrupted. “I’m sure that if Mr. Africa could say anything about it—”
Miss Minetta screamed, “If Benjamin could say anything about it, he’d say she killed him!”
“That’s enough of that,” Flash said sternly. “I know that Mr. Africa would want me to see that his wife’s interests were protected. They’re not being protected. You’re overlooking every angle of this case except hers. I’d like to hear from this mystery man I found skulking on the terrace.”
“Muroc’s the name,” said Mr. Muroc. He was trying to put a broken cigar together. The cigar had evidently been broken in halves when Flash had tackled him. But the jagged ends fitted. Mr. Muroc licked them with his tongue, and placed the refashioned cigar together with firm pressure, then inserted it in his mouth.
He said, “I’ve explained myself. I was taking a walk. When I came back to the house, I saw the light in Mr. Africa’s study and started to walk in through the window. I saw he was dead. Just then someone yelled, and I ran, thinking it was the murderer.”
Flash, watching him, saw intelligence flick from his little black eyes to Sheriff Flegg’s little blue eyes, and was conscious of mysterious undercurrents.
“That’s my story,” Muroc said, “and I’m going to stick to it.”
His insolence made Flash wonder, but not for long. It was instantly evident that the net was going to close about Lotus Africa, or Sheriff Hegg would know the reason why.
“Whether or not she dropped that hairpin,” he said, “is beside the point. Of everybody here, she had the most to gain by killing Mr. Africa. And here’s another angle: Whoever killed Mr. Africa was someone the old man trusted, or he would have prevented them from slipping that wire around his neck.”
Flash said immediately, “That’s too general. There isn’t a person in this house he wouldn’t have permitted near him. Even Cheseldine. It’s quite as likely he was taken by surprise. Anyone could have come up behind him through the window without his seeing them.”
The sheriff made an impatient gesture with his bony hands. “All right. Then let’s consider it from still another angle. If Mrs. Africa killed her husband, she must have come downstairs and gone into the study either by those casement windows or the hall doorway, or possibly through this connecting door right here. She might have gone in and out without being seen. On the other hand, someone might have seen her either going in or coming out.”
“Unless,” Flash said, “she stayed in her room, as she claims she did.”
A voice at the end of the room said thickly, “Ah seen her go in and Ah seen her come out.”
Flash and the sheriff simultaneously spun about. It was the cook who had spoken. They looked at the black woman as if they had never seen her before. She was a fat woman. A black woman. A very fat, very black woman. She was gigantic in a stiffly starched white dress. She dwarfed the butler and the chambermaid who stood beside her.
Sheriff Hegg walked rapidly down the room.
“You did?” he said, and almost purred.
“Yassuh.”
“What’s your name?”
“Blossom. Blossom Vickus.”
“And you say you saw Mrs. Africa go into the study and come out of the study?”
“Yassuh.”
“Where were you when this happened?”
In the interval before her reply, Flash heard Lotus Africa give a faint little sound, like a choked sob. He looked quickly at her. Her eyes were bright and clear. She was as poised, as calm as ever. Only her lips betrayed her feelings at this new development. They were slightly quivering.
He knew that, as before, she was trying to hold herself in. In an American girl, this repression would have aroused his suspicions. But he had realized that she was calm and composed by training, that composure was the law of the Orient. She was meeting this distressing situation as she had been taught to meet all emergencies, with poise and courage.
“In de do’ under de stairs,” the black woman said.
Flash said quickly, “Do you spend much of your time in that doorway?”
“Yassuh. Consid’ble. Ah was stand-in’ there when Ah saw her come down de stair and go in de study. Den Ah heard all dat bangin’ and thumpin’. Den Ah sees her come out ob dat room.”
Flash turned to Lotus Africa. “How about this?”
“It’s a lie,” she said quietly. “That woman hates me. She’s lying because she hates me.”
“And jes’ befo’ dinner,” the black woman was saying, “Ah see her go down into de cellar, and fool around wid dat electric meter — jes’ befo’ all de lights went out — wham!”
Chapter XI
The Surprise at Milltown Pike
The sheriff was smiling grimly. He sent a little triumphant glance at Flash, who promptly said, “Sheriff, that woman is lying. She has some kind of prejudice against Mrs. Africa and is taking this chance to get her into trouble.”
Sheriff Hegg returned to Flash. “Son,” he said, “you’re just plain crazy. You’re sorry for this girl, and you’re out to defend her tooth and claw. It’s time wasted, Dan.” His voice was patronizing. “You don’t know these Oriental women.”
His tone indicated that he was a last-minute authority on the subject of Oriental women.
“There’s nothing left for me to do but take this woman down to jail. I’ve found enough to turn over to the coroner.”
“But you haven’t found anything,” Flash said. “This cook is lying. When I get her into court, I’ll make her eat what she just said. You haven’t anything on Mrs. Africa. You’ve rushed into this headlong. You’ve been prejudiced from the outset.”
“Maybe you ain’t prejudiced yourself!” the sheriff cried angrily.