“Dr. Fell asked me,” pursued Hadley, “in a strictly unofficial way to keep an eye on you. It seems that you ran away from him . . .”
“I don't think I quite understand. I didn't run away.”
“With the intention of coming back again, of course! That's understood!”
Fay's eyes closed spasmodically, and opened again.
“Just before then, Miss Seton, Dr. Fell was going to ask you something very important.”
“Oh?”
“He instructed m to tell you that he hadn't put the question last night,” continued Hadley, “because he didn't guess then what he guesses at the present time. But he wants very much to have an answer to that question.” Hadley's tone changed only slightly; it was still polite, still casually inquiring; but the whole room seemed to grow warmer as he added:
“May I ask that question now?”
Chapter XVII
The hanging light over the chest-of-drawers shone down on Fay's hair, and brought out the warmth of it in contrast to the apparent coldness of her face and body.
“A question about . . .?” Her hand—Miles could have shouted a warning—instinctively moved toward the brief-case behind her.
“A question,” said Hadley, “In connection with the frightening of Miss Marion Hammond last night.” (Fay's hand darted back again; she straightened up.)
“And I'm afraid,” continued Hadley, “I must preface it by getting the situation clear. Don't mind my notebook, Miss Seton! It's not official. I've only put down what Fell asked me to put down.” His eyes strayed o the identity card in her hand. “Or do you refuse to answer questions, Miss Seton?”
“Do I ever—refuse?”
“Thank you. Now then: with regard tot the frightening of Miss Marion Hammond . . .”
“I didn't do it!”
“You may not be always conscious,” sad Hadley, “of what you do or the effect it has.”
Hadley's voice remained quiet when he said this.
“However!” he added quickly, and there was a penetrating quality about his gaze which made the eyes seem to grow larger. “We're not talking now about your conscious guilt or innocence in anything. I'm only trying (what shall I say?) to get this picture clear. As I understand it, you were the last person known to be with Marion Hammond before she was—frightened?”
Fay gave a quick, hypnotized nod.
“You left her alone in the bedroom in good health and spirits, at . . . about what time?”
“About midnight. I told Dr. Fell so.”
“Ah, yes. So you did— Had Miss Hammond undressed at this time?”
“Yes. She was in blue silk pyjamas. Sitting in a chair by the bedside table.”
“Now, Miss Seton! Considerably later, a shot was fired in Miss Hammond's room. Do you remember what time that was?”
“No. I'm afraid I haven't the remotest idea.”
Hadley swung around to Miles.
“Can you help us, Mr. Hammond? Everyone, including Dr. Fell himself, seems vague about times.”
“I can't help you,” answered Miles, “except in this one thing.” He paused, with the scene coming back to him. “After the shot, I ran up to Marion's bedroom. Professor Rigaud joined me, and a few minutes later Dr. Fell. Professor Rigaud asked me to go downstairs, to sterilize a hypodermic and do some other things in the kitchen. When I got to the kitchen, the time was twenty minutes to two. There's a big clock on the wall, and I remember noticing it.”
Hadley nodded. “So the time of the shot, roughly, was round about half-past one or a little later?”
“Yes. I should think so.”
“You agree with that, Miss Seton?”
“I'm afraid”--Fay lifted her shoulders--”I simply don't remember. I never paid any attention to the time.”
“But you did hear this shot?”
“Oh, yes. I was dozing.”
“And afterwards, I understand, you slipped upstairs and looked in at the bedroom door?--Excuse me, Miss Seton? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that answer?”
“I said: yes.” Fay's lips shaped themselves with rounded distinctness. Something of last night's atmosphere returned to her, of heightened breathing and expression of eye.
“Your room is on the ground floor?”
“Yes.”
“When you heard this shot it the middle of the night, what made you think the noise came from upstairs? And from that room in particular?”
“Well! Soon after the shot I heard people running in the upstairs hall. Every sound carries at night.” For the first time Fay seemed honestly puzzled. “So I wondered what was wrong. I got up and put on a wrap and slippers, and lighted a lamp, and went upstairs. The door of Miss Hammond's room was wide open, and there was light inside. So I went there and peeped in.”
“What did you see?”
Fay moistened her lips.
“I saw Miss Hammond lying half in bed, holding a gun. I saw a man named Professor Rigaud—I'd known him before—standing on the far side of the bed. I saw,” she hesitated, “Mr. Miles Hammond. I heard Professor Rigaud say this was shock, and that Miss Hammond wasn't dead.”
“But you didn't go in? Or call out to them?”
“No!”
“What happened then?”
“I heard someone who sounded awfully heavy and clumsy start to walk up the front stairs at the other end of the hall,” answered Fay. “I know now it must have been Dr. Fell on his way to the bedroom. I turned out the lamp I was carrying, and ran down the back stairs. He didn't see me.”
“What was it that upset you, Miss Seton?”
“Upset me?”
“When you looked into that room,” Hadley told her with careful slowness, “You saw something that upset you. What was it?”
“I don't understand!”
“Miss Seton,” explained Hadley, putting away the notebook he had taken out of his inside breast pocket, “I've had to make all these elaborate inquiries to ask you just one question. You saw something, and it upset you so much that later you apologized to Mr. Hammond in Dr. Fell's presence for making what you called a disgraceful exhibition of yourself. You weren't frightened; the feeling wasn't in the least connected with fear. What upset you?”
Fay whirled round towards Miles. “Did you tell Dr. Fell?”
And Miles stared at her. “Tell him what?”
“What I said to you last night,” Fay retorted, her fingers twitching together, “when we were there in the kitchen and twitching together, “when we were there in the kitchen and I—I wasn't quite myself.”
“I didn't tell Dr. Fell anything,” Miles snapped, with a violence he could not understand. “And in any case what difference does it make?”
Miles took a step or two away from her. He bumped into Barbara, who also moved back. For a fraction of a second, as Barbara's head turned, he surprised on Barbara's face a look which completed his demoralization. Barbara's eyes had been fixed steadily on Fay for some time. In her eyes, slowly growing, was an expression of wonder; and of something else which was not dislike, but very near dislike.
If Barbara turns against her too, Miles thought, we might as well throw up the brief for the defense and retire. But Barbara of all people couldn't be turning against Fay! And Miles still fought back.
“I shouldn't answer any questions,” he said. “If Superintendent Hadley isn't here officially, he's got no blasted right to come barging in and hint that there'll be sinister consequences if you don't answer. Upset! Anybody would have been upset after what happened last night.” He looked at Fay again. “In any case, all you said to me was that you'd just seen something you hadn't noticed before, and . . .”