When he reached Palings, the Inspector found that Dr Chester was with Ermyntrude, and that Vicky had not returned from Fritton. Mary received him, and upon his disclosing his errand to her, said frankly: "I've been thinking over that question, and going over in my mind who could have taken the rifle out of the case, and walked off with it. And I do think that I ought, in fairness, to tell you that when the Prince left for Dr Chester's house on Sunday, I saw him go, and he had nothing at all in his hands. Of course, I quite see that he might have taken the rifle earlier in the day, and hidden it somewhere on the way to the garage, but I don't honestly see when he got the chance. I mean, it would surely have been taking the most frightful risk to have removed it from the gun-room during the morning, with all the servants about, not to speak of ourselves."
"Can you remember, miss, when you last saw the rifle in the gun-case?"
"No, that's the trouble: I can't! I doubt if any of us could, because naturally we none of us have ever used Mr. Fanshawe's rifles. One just doesn't notice things one isn't interested in."
The Inspector nodded. "Well, casting your mind over young Baker's visits to the house, could he have had the opportunity to take the rifle?"
"No, I don't think so. Certainly not, when he called the second time. I wasn't here when he called earlier in the day, but could he have carried off a rifle on his motorcycle?"
"Not without its being noticed, he couldn't. I'm not setting much store by that first visit of his, I don't mind telling you, miss. Stands to reason he wouldn't have come up to the house again to see Mr. Carter if he'd already made up his mind to shoot him, and pinched the weapon he meant to use. The question is, could he have known that there were rifles in the house?"
Mary wrinkled her brow. "I shouldn't think so. According to Miss Fanshawe, he didn't even know that my cousin was married, so it doesn't look as though he could have had any knowledge of the house, does it?" She looked the Inspector in the eyes, "I could have taken the gun at any time; so could Miss Fanshawe. I shan't say we didn't, because you wouldn't believe me. But I can tell you one thing: Mr. Steel didn't take the gun when he was here on Sunday, because I saw him when he came out of the drawing-room, where he'd been talking to Mrs. Carter, and I was with him until he left the house, and drove off."
"For the sake of argument, miss, he could have come back while you were all at lunch, couldn't he?"
"I don't think so. Mrs. Carter had her lunch in the drawing-room, so that the butler was continually passing through the hall, to wait on her."
"No other way he could have got into the house than by the front-door?"
"Well, yes, he could have entered through the gardenhall, or the morning-room, or the library. They both have French windows. But he'd still have run the risk of walking into one of the servants."
"Then it boils down to this, miss: you can't think of anyone other than yourself or Miss Fanshawe who could have taken the rifle."
"Not on Sunday," Mary said. "And there's no point in going back farther than that, is there?"
"Have you got something in your mind, miss?" said Hemingway, watching her.
"No, not really. Only that I do know of one person who was in the gun-room on Saturday morning. But it isn't helpful, I'm afraid."
"You never know. Who was it, miss?"
"Mr. White. My cousin had lent him a shot-gun, and he brought it back on his way to work on Saturday. I didn't see him myself, but Mrs. Carter told me about it."
"Did Mr. White go into the gun-room, then?"
"Yes, he did."
"Alone, miss?"
"Yes. Mrs. Carter said she didn't see why she should bother to put the gun back in its place for him."
"And you don't know of anyone else who went to the gun-room?"
"No, but I quite see that almost anyone could have. The front-door is always open during the summer, and any number of people must know that Mrs. Carter kept all her first husband's rifles." She turned, for the morning-room door had opened, and Dr Chester had come out into the hall.
Chester glanced from her to Hemingway. "Good morning, Inspector," he said. "I hope you haven't come to upset my patient again?"
"Oh no, I don't think so, sir!" replied Hemingway. "Very sorry Mrs. Carter was upset yesterday, but if you don't mind my saying so, you'd better speak to Miss Fanshawe about that. That was her little show, not mine. Any objection to my seeing Mrs. Carter?"
"No," Chester said, re-opening the morning-room door. "None at all."
The Inspector passed into the room. Chester shut the door behind him, and looked across at Mary with the enigmatical expression in his eyes which always made her feel that he saw a great deal more than one wanted him to. "Tired, Mary?"
She smiled, but with an effort. "A little. Rather bothered. How do you find Aunt Ermy?"
"She'll be all right. Nothing for you to worry about."
"I thought last night she was going to have a thorough breakdown. It's absurd, Maurice, but she's worrying herself sick over Vicky."
"Yes. I've assured her that there's no need. I'd like to have a word with that young lady."
"You can't; she's gone to the Inquest, with Hugh." Again he looked at her in that considering way of his.
"Has she, indeed? Why?"
"Oh, heaven knows! In search of a thrill, I dare say. She will have it that she's closely concerned. She'll probably treat us all to another act - Innocent girl suspected of Murder, or Mystery Woman, or something of that nature. I'm sorry to say Hugh rather encourages her. I suppose I must be lacking in a sense of humour, for I don't find it amusing."
"No, nor I. Especially when she saddles me with Ermyntrude's exalted foreign guests," said Chester dryly.
"I feel terribly remorseful about that," confessed Mary. "Only you were so like the god in the car, that I jumped at your offer."
He smiled. "It's all right, my dear."
"Is he a frightful scourge to you?"
"Oh no! I don't see much of him. He had some idea of coming round to explain himself to Ermyntrude, but I headed him off. I trust that the police will soon arrive at some conclusion about him."
She could not help laughing. "Maurice, you've no idea how cold-blooded that sounds! Between ourselves, do you think he did it?"
"I've no idea," he replied shortly.
"I can't make up my mind about it. Somehow, it doesn't seem possible that any one of the people suspected can have done such a thing."
"Nevertheless, it's obvious that one of them must have."
"Couldn't it have been someone quite different? Perhaps someone we don't even know about?"
"My dear, I'm not a detective. It doesn't seem very likely to me."
,It sounds ridiculous, but I do rather wish you hadn't been out on a case at the time. I feel you might have been more use than Dr Hinchcliffe."
"Rubbish! Your cousin was dead before Hinchcliffe got there."
"I didn't mean that. Something might have struck you. You're much cleverer than Dr Hinchcliffe. Everyone says so."
"Very gratifying, but if you're imagining that I could have done anything more than he did, you're quite wrong, Mary."
They were interrupted at this moment by Ermyntrude, who bounced out of the morning-room, with Inspector Hemingway on her heels. "Oh, there you are, love!" she exclaimed. "Look, Mary, isn't it a fact that Harold White was in the gun-room on Saturday, all by himself?"
"Yes, I've already told the Inspector so."
"And what's more hadn't Wally lent him a hundred pounds, which he hadn't paid back?"