"Yes, well, now suppose you were to tell me just who has been here this evening?" suggested Hemingway.
"I ought, perhaps, to tell you first, Chief Inspector, that I overheard a very unpleasant scene this morning between Mrs. Haddington and Miss Birtley. I'm sure I would prefer not to mention the matter, but I feel it to be my duty to inform you that Miss Birtley addressed Mrs. Haddington in what I should call threatening terms. She said that she wouldn't be interfered with, and there were no lengths she wouldn't go to, if she was goaded to it. Then she said, and, I must say, I was shocked, that if she couldn't have Mr.. Harte - Timothy, she called him - she didn't care what became of her. At which point, I thought it proper to intervene, which, Chief Inspector, I did. Quite murderous, Miss Birtley looked: I thought so at the time!"
Hemingway listened dispassionately to this story. He was interested, but he disappointed the butler by betraying no signs of excitement whatsoever. He felt none. It was possible, in his view, that Miss Birtley had strangled her employer, but he had interrogated too many witnesses not to recognise spite when he was confronted with it. By dint of some skilful questioning, he elicited from Thrimby a fairly coherent account of the day's happenings. "So, setting aside the doctor's visit, no one came to the house between the time he left, and the time Mr.. Butter-wick arrived? Very well! You say that Lord Guisborough called before Mr.. Butter-wick had left the house. Did you see Mr.. Butterwick out?"
"No, for I was engaged in showing his lordship up to the drawing-room. By the time I came downstairs again, Mr.. Butter-wick had departed. I did not actually see Lord Guisborough out either, though I heard him go. His lordship, not waiting for me to show him out, slammed the door with considerable violence. Mrs. Haddington seemed quite put out: in fact she spoke to me as I am not at all accustomed to be spoken to, actually coming to the head of the stairs to know what had kept me, which nothing had, Chief Inspector, but it is not my custom to go dashing upstairs! She then instructed me to say in future, if his lordship called or rang up, that she was not at home. It is my belief that Mrs. Haddington did not, as one might say, fancy his lordship. Of course, it is not for me to venture an opinion, Chief Inspector, but one can't help putting two and two together. What with his lordship running after Miss Cynthia, till it is quite noticeable, and Mrs. Haddington asking him to come to see her this afternoon, and then his lordship rushing out of the house, and Mrs. Haddington saying what she did, one can't doubt that she had told him it was no use him thinking of Miss Cynthia, for she wouldn't consent. Miss Cynthia, I should mention, is under age. Strictly between ourselves, Chief Inspector, it's common knowledge, in the Hall, that it's Mr.. Harte Mrs. Haddington wanted for Miss Cynthia. Well, when he first visited here, I must say I thought there was something in it. But then he seemed to get sweet on Miss Birtley all at once - and there has been a certain amount of unpleasantness, Miss Birtley being a young woman with a temper, and I regret to say, not always as civil as she might be. Really, I was quite shocked at her this morning; and naturally I couldn't but recall the words she had with Mr.. Seaton-Carew, the night he was murdered. Almost the same they were, though I don't precisely remember them now. Threatening, is what I should call them."
"Never mind about Miss Birtley for the moment! After Lord Guisborough left the house, what happened?"
The butler reflected. "I went down to fetch the cocktail-tray up to the drawing-room. I fancy Mrs. Haddington must have gone up to Miss Cynthia's room, for she asked me, when she came down, if I knew where Miss Cynthia was. Mapperley - that's Mrs. Haddington's personal maid - thinks she went off to a party, but not having seen her go, I couldn't say. She hasn't yet returned."
Just as well!" muttered Hemingway. "Then what happened?"
"Mrs. Haddington went to see if Miss Cynthia was in the boudoir. It was then that Mr.. Poulton arrived, about 6.25, as near as I remember."
"Did Mrs. Haddington seem pleased to see him, or not?"
"Well, sir, I thought Mrs. Haddington was better pleased to see him than he was to be here. I doubt if Mr.. Poulton has ever been in the house above twice or three times. I had the impression that he did not care for Mrs. Haddington. But he is not a gentleman as shows his feelings. He asked for a private word with Mrs. Haddington, and she took him into the boudoir, and that was the last time I saw her alive."
"I see. Tell me once again exactly what happened when the boudoir bell rang!"
"When the bell rang," said the butler carefully, "I had of course been expecting it. I mounted the stairs from the basement, and when I reached the hall I saw Mr.. Poulton coming down the first flight."
"Was he in any way agitated? Did he seem quite as usual?"
"So far as I could judge, he did. But I don't know him well, and, as I say, he doesn't give anything away. He was coming quite slowly downstairs, nor he didn't hurry over putting on his coat. His car was waiting for him, and he drove off, as I told you."
"All right, that seems very clear," Hemingway said. "Did you say I would find Miss Birtley in the library?"
"Yes, sir. I could not take it upon myself to allow Miss Birtley to leave the house. Mrs. Foston is with her."
"All right, I know the way," Hemingway said.
He found Beulah and the housekeeper seated one on either side of the electric stove in the library. Beulah had thrown off her hat, but she still wore her tweed coat, into the pockets of which she had dug her hands. She looked white, and frightened. Mrs. Foston, who rose at the Chief Inspector's entrance, had been quietly knitting.. She folded up the work, and said: "If you please, sir, Miss Birtley and I have thought it best to send for Miss Cynthia's aunt, Miss Pickhill."
"Quite right," said Hemingway.
"I have also sent for Mr.. Harte!" Beulah said.
"Well, you've got a perfect right to send for anyone you like," replied Hemingway. "Anyone else you've rung up?"
"No."
"That's good. It wouldn't really help any of us to have half London here. Thanks, Mrs. Foston, I won't keep you any longer."
Mrs. Foston glanced at Beulah. "That's as may be, sir, but if Miss Birtley would like me to stay with her I'm very willing. Because no one's going to make me believe a young lady would go and do such a nasty, cruel thing, whatever Thrimby may say! A piece of my mind is what he's going to get, before he's much older!"
"You go and give it to him right now!" Hemingway advised her. "You won't do any good staying here, and whoever told you the police go around with thumbscrews in their pockets told you a lie: we aren't allowed to."
"It's all right!" Beulah said, forcing up a smile. "I shan't answer any questions until Mr.. Harte arrives."
"Well, if you're sure, miss!" Mrs. Foston said.
Hemingway opened the door, and pushed her gently over the threshold. Having shut her out of the room, he turned and looked Beulah over. "You do get yourself into some awkward situations, don't you?" he remarked genially.
He caught her off her guard. "This is the worst I've been in yet! You needn't think I don't know that! I suppose you've already been told that I had a row with Mrs. Haddington this morning?"
"Oh, yes, I know all about that! Used threatening language, didn't you? Silly thing to do, if you meant to murder her!"
"I didn't murder her!"
"All right, let's start from there! When did you leave the house?"
"I'm not going to say any more than that! I know just where talking to the police gets you!"
"Listen!" said Hemingway patiently. "I'm quite prepared to believe you had a raw deal eighteen months ago. Suppose you have a shot at believing that I'm not the Big, Bad Wolf? I'm not even Inspector Underbarrow: in fact, far from it!"