"Our Christmas party!" Joseph said tragically.
"We shall at least be spared your rollicking festivities," Stephen said.
The Inspector glanced at him rather narrowly. That was a queer way to speak of his uncle's murder, he thought. It didn't do to set too much store by what people said in moments of shock, but if he were asked he would be bound to admit that he hadn't taken a fancy to young Herriard, not by a long chalk.
Joseph caught his glance, and rushed to Stephen's support. "My nephew's very much upset," he said. "It's been a dreadful blow - and I'm afraid the modern youth makes a point of hiding its feelings under a mask of flippancy."
Stephen grimaced, but allowed this explanation to pass without comment. He dived a hand into his pocket for his pipe and his tobacco-pouch, and began to fill the pipe, while Joseph told the Inspector about the other guests.
Joseph had a kind word for everybody. Roydon was a most promising playwright, a great friend of his niece. The niece? Ah yes! this young man's sister: an actress, and quite her poor dead uncle's favourite. Then there was Miss Dean - a smile towards Stephen - his nephew's fiancee. He might say that this party had really been arranged on her account. She had never stayed with them before, and they had so much wanted to get to know her. Miss Clare, too! a cousin, quite a persona grata in the house. Remained only Edgar Mottisfont, Nathaniel's partner, and close friend for many years. There were, of course, the servants, but he was quite sure none of them could have had anything to do with the murder.
This was unpromising stuff, but the Inspector did not allow himself to be unduly cast-down. He wanted to know whether there had been any quarrel between the deceased and any of his guests.
"Oh no, no! Not what I should call a quarrel!" Joseph said quickly. "I'm afraid all we Herriards are inclined to be testy, but there has been nothing of a serious nature. Nothing - nothing to warrant this dreadful thing!"
"But there has been quarrelling, sir?"
Just a few family tiffs! What I call the give and take of family life. My brother was a sufferer from lumbago, and you know what that does to a man's temper, Inspector. There may have been a little Grossness here and there, but we knew that Uncle Nat's bark was worse than his bite, didn't we, Stephen?"
Not even his own predicament, which he must have known to be dangerous, could induce Stephen to join forces with Joseph. He said "Did we?" in a non-committal tone which did much to destroy the good impression Joseph was making.
The Inspector turned towards him. "Would you say that there had been a quarrel, sir?"
"No, I wouldn't. I'd say my uncle had quarrelled with every one of us, with the exception of Miss Clare."
"Did you have words with him, sir?"
"Many," said Stephen coolly.
"Stephen, don't be silly, old man!" Joseph interposed. "Whatever may have passed between you and Nat earlier in the day, I for one can bear witness to the fact that you and he were on the friendliest terms by teatime! Inspector, this stupid fellow loves to make himself out to be a regular old bear, but I saw him with my own eyes link arms with my brother as they came in to tea, and no one could have been nicer to him thereafter than he was! Indeed, I noticed it particularly, and was so happy to see it!"
The Inspector's appraising gaze travelled from his face to Stephen's. "But there had been a quarrel between you and the deceased today, sir?"
Stephen shrugged. "Well, I hadn't been thrown out of the house."
"I should like a plain answer, if you please, sir."
"Yes, then," Stephen said.
"But, Stephen, you're giving a false impression!" Joseph said. "We all know you and Nat rubbed one another up the wrong way, but he was very fond of you, and you of him!"
"You'd better examine my uncle," Stephen told the Inspector roughly. "He apparently knows all the answers."
"Was your quarrel of a serious nature, sir?"
"I've already told you that I wasn't thrown out of the house."
"Am I to take it that at the time the deceased was last seen alive you were on friendly terms with him?"
"Temporary truce," said Stephen.
"When did you last set eyes on the deceased, sir?"
Stephen took a moment to think this over. "Not sure of the time. I left the drawing-room when Roydon had finished reading his play. Probably about half-past seven."
"When you state that you left the drawing-room, am I to understand that you left the deceased there?" "Everyone was there."
"And between that time, and the time when you discovered his body, you did not see him?"
"No."
"What were you doing during that period?"
"Changing, in my room."
"Thank you, sir," said the Inspector, making a note.
"Done with me?" Stephen asked. "Dinner - probably spoilt by now, of course - is still before me, I would respectfully point out to you."
Cold-blooded devil! thought the Inspector. He said: "That will be all for the present."
Stephen walked out of the room. Joseph, who had been watching him with a good deal of anxiety, smiled at the Inspector, and said: "He doesn't mean the things he says, you know. The fact of the matter is he's very like my poor brother. Both of them hasty-tempered, and bitter tongued. A quick flare-up, and all over. Nothing sulky!"
The Inspector received this information politely if not very enthusiastically. He asked Joseph when he had last seen Nathaniel.
"Miss Clare and I must have been the last people to have seen him alive," Joseph answered. "Everyone else had gone upstairs. I was going up with him. I wanted to have a talk with him. Alas, that I did not!"
"How was that, sir?"
Joseph looked momentarily disconcerted, but apparently decided that since his tongue had betrayed him he must make the best of it. "To tell you the truth, Inspector, my brother was in a very bad temper, and I wanted to smooth him down! But he said he didn't want to talk. Well, I mustn't conceal anything, must I? I had stupidly left a step-ladder on the stairs, and my brother knocked it over, and - yes, he was very cross with me indeed! So I thought it wisest to let him cool off. Miss Clare and I went upstairs together a few minutes later."
"What had put Mr. Herriard in a bad temper, sir?"
"Oh, a mere nothing! Mr. Roydon had been reading his play to us, and my brother didn't like it."
"That doesn't seem to be much of a reason, sir."
Joseph gave an unhappy laugh. "I'm afraid it was quite enough reason for him, Inspector. That's just the sort of thing that did upset him."
The Inspector pondered this, and at length produced: "If he didn't like to have it read to him, sir, why was it read?"
Complications were clearly arising. Joseph said: "Mr. Roydon is a guest in the house. It would have been very difficult to have forbidden him to read his play, wouldn't it?"
"Seems queer-like to me, sir," was all the Inspector vouchsafed. "I'd like to see this Mr. Roydon, please."
"Certainly, but I'm sure he knows nothing about the crime. I mean, it would be too preposterous! My brother had never laid eyes on him before he came down here yesterday. Shall I send him in to you?"
"Yes, please," said the Inspector.
He was clearly an unresponsive man. His stolid manner and frozen stare quite put poor Joseph out. He went away, looking unhappy, to find Roydon.