"Was Seaton-Carew a friend of the Lady Nest?"
"Yes. Nothing in that: very good man at a party, much cultivated by hostesses."
"You wouldn't put it any higher than that, sir?"
"Lord, no! If someone's told you that she called him Dan-darling, or Dan-my-sweet, dismiss it from your mind! She calls me Timothy-my-lamb on no provocation whatsoever. It's her line. Anything more?"
"Dr Westruther?" said Hemingway.
"Pillar of Harley Street. Sort of bloke who calls female patients Dear lady, and recommends them to take a glass of champagne and a caviare sandwich at eleven every morning."
"Now, how can you possibly know that?" expostulated Hemingway. "Don't tell me Lady Harte told you so, because I remember her very well, and if she's taken to going to fashionable doctors all I can say is that she's changed a lot in thirteen years!"
"Oh lord, no! I had that from quite another source: one of the Old Guard - not at Mrs. Haddington's party! Are you fancying Westruther in the role of Chief Suspect? What a singularly fragrant thought!"
"I'm not, but, according to the evidence, it was he who went up to the drawing-room from the library to explain how it was that the game was being held up."
"Pausing on the way to strangle Seaton-Carew. Why?"
"I can't think," said Hemingway calmly. "He says he hadn't ever met him before."
"I think the better of him. Half a shake! What price Sir Roddy? He it was who discovered the body, wasn't it? Now, there's a line for you!"
"When you kept on getting under my feet in the Kane case, sir," said Hemingway, with some asperity, "you may have driven me dotty, but at least you took it seriously, not as if it was a roaring farce! I don't say you haven't been helpful, because you have, up to a point, but I can see it's high time I left!"
"Oh, don't go!" Timothy begged, his very blue eyes wickedly mocking. "If it's because you heard the doorbell, stay put. I told Kempsey to say I was out. Nobody but tradesmen would call on me at this hour, anyway. I'm one of the world's workers, I am."
He was wrong. A halting step sounded, the door was opened, and Mr. James Kane limped into the room.
"Hallo, Jim!" exclaimed Timothy, rising from his chair to the intense discomfort of Melchizedek. "Now, this really is a reunion! Meet your old friend Sergeant Hemingway, now masquerading under the guise of a Chief Inspector!"
"Then you were at that party!" said James Kane, casting upon the table a copy of that same periodical which had caught the Chief Inspector's eye earlier in the morning. "You bloody little pest, Timothy! I could scrap you! For God's sake, Hemingway, clap him into a cell at Canon Row, and keep him there! How are you? I can't say, considering the circumstances, that I'm glad to meet you here, but it's nice to see you not looking a day older! Is my blasted half-brother one of the suspects?"
"Well, sir, I'm bound to say that he is!" replied Hemingway, wringing his hand.
Chapter Ten
"You don't mean to tell me it's all in the papers already, Jim?" said Timothy incredulously.
"I don't know about all, but quite enough!" said Mr. James Kane. "You aren't mentioned, but you can bet your life Mother will guess you were there!"
Timothy, who had picked up the newspaper, and was interestedly reading the fatal paragraphs, retorted: "Mamma doesn't take in a rag like this! If you hadn't such a low taste in literature -"
"Thanks very much, this is Nanny's chosen organ! How that woman knows what she does know beats me!" "Oh, Daddy, aren't these Uncle Timothy's friends? I thought you'd like to see what it says here about them!" Like hell I would! You'd better tell me the worst, and be done with it! Who is this Seaton-Carew, and are you really implicated, or not?"
"Of course I am!" said Timothy indignantly. "I've got no alibi, I didn't like the fellow, and the Serg - I mean, the Chief Inspector, says I'm cold-blooded! So stop thinking you're the only member of the family who can be suspected of brutal murder! Such side! The only thing that stops our old friend arresting me here and now is my low cunning in using picture-wire instead of a knife. Come to think of it, I believe I've still got that lovely weapon somewhere." He cast a look around the room. "I don't say I could put my hand on it, but -"
"No, that I'll be bound you couldn't, sir!" said Hemingway. He turned to Jim Kane. "I wish I could stay and have a bit of a crack with you, sir, but I can't, and in any case you'll be wanting to talk to Mr. Harte, so I'll say goodbye. He hasn't changed much: I keep thinking of that burglar alarm he fixed up outside your door!"
"Wretched brat!" said Mr. Kane, grinning reminiscently.
Timothy escorted the Chief Inspector to his front door, and returned to find his half-brother filling a pipe. "What brings you up to town, Jim?" he enquired.
"Business, primarily. Also that!" Mr. Kane jerked his head towards the newspaper. "Are you really mixed up in this, Timothy?"
"I don't think so. I was present, however. Rather a mess, one way and another."
Mr. Kane grunted, and struck a match. "I should have thought we'd had enough murders in the family, I must say.
"Too true. Not that this one can be said to be in the family."
Pressing the glowing tobacco down into the bowl of his pipe with his thumb, Jim Kane glanced shrewdly across at his young relative. "Got more than a casual interest in it, haven't you?" he asked.
"Yes," responded Timothy coolly. "I have. The girl I propose to marry is, like myself, one of those who might have committed the murder."
Mr. James Kane was still busy with his pipe. Puffs of smoke arose from it. "So that's serious, is it? I heard something about it from Mother."
"Did she tell you it was your duty to come and reason with me?" asked Timothy, unscrewing another bottle of beer. "Beulah didn't go big with her at all, I'm afraid."
Jim accepted the glass that was handed to him, and set it down on the mantelshelf behind him. "No, she didn't. Far from it, but don't run away with the idea that I swallow all Mother says without a tablespoonful of salt, because I know Mother rather better than you do, and that isn't one of the errors I fall into! All the same, are you quite sure you aren't making a mistake, old son?"
"Quite sure," said Timothy.
These simple words made it difficult to continue the conversation, but Jim tried his best. "Silly question to have asked you. What I mean is, don't go and do something you'll regret for the rest of your life!"
"All right, I won't."
Mr. Kane recruited his forces with a drink. "If you will have it in plain English, don't make a mesalliance, Timothy! God knows I don't want to barge into your affairs, but, even allowing for Mother's exaggerations, this tie-up doesn't look like the right sort of marriage for you at all! I daresay I sound damned offensive, but do think it over carefully before you do anything rash! Setting aside your own future, you ought to consider Mother, and your Father a bit!"
"I don't think Father will worry much," said Timothy. "He doesn't, you know. As a matter of fact, I've always thought he had more interest in you than in me. Of course, I quite see that it's disappointing for Mamma.
What with you marrying your great-aunt's companion, and me marrying Mrs. Haddington's secretary - !"
"Look here!" exclaimed Jim. "Pat may have been Aunt Emily's companion, but she comes of a good family, and she's got hordes of relations, all out of the right drawer, let me tell you!"
"That's where I score over you," said Timothy.
"Listen, Timothy!"
"Listen, Jim!" interrupted Timothy. "I love you very much, I love your well-born wife, I even love your extremely exhausting brats! You're the hell of a nice chap, and I wish you hadn't lost your leg, but -"