'I'd say if someone offered Sid Wellings a set of silver candlesticks, or a piece of jewellery, he'd snap it up.
But by the time you talked to him he must have known what happened at the Lodge and if he had any connection with it, even by chance, he'd have been wetting himself.'
Madden nodded. 'All the same, next time you're over there, speak to him. Ask him the same questions.
What was he doing over the weekend? Who did he see passing through the village? Let him know we're not satisfied with his answers.'
Stackpole looked at the inspector curiously. 'Do you still think he came through Oakley, sir?' And then, after a pause: 'It is "he" we're looking for, isn't it? Not some gang?'
'We believe it's one man,' Madden confirmed. 'But keep that to yourself for now. About Oakley, I'm not sure. He had to have some kind of transport. We think he was carrying a rifle, and when he left he must have had what he took from the Lodge. I don't think he could have come into the area on foot, even through the fields, without someone spotting him.'
'A rifle, sir?'
'He killed them with a rifle and bayonet — we're fairly sure of that. All except Mrs Fletcher.'
'Is he a soldier then?' Stackpole scowled.
'I doubt it. There's no military camp anywhere near.
An ex-soldier, more like it.'
'Plenty of them about.' The constable pressed Madden to come in for a cup of tea, but he declined the offer. Stackpole himself was due at Melling Lodge to join the party searching the woods. 'Between you and me, sir, it's a waste of time. Even with Lord Stratton's keepers helping. Most of these lads are town-bred.
They'll more likely step on something than see it.'
An hour later Madden was back at the church hall.
He had found no one to confirm May Birney's story of the whistle. Sergeant Hollingsworth was seated at the table where Boyce had been the day before. The Guildford inspector was supervising a check of all boots in the village.
'He's got a fingerprint team with him, too, sir.
They'll take the prints of anyone who called regularly at the Lodge.'
'Anything else?' Madden began leafing through the pile of statements on the table.
'Only the lady doctor, sir. She came by, asking for you. It's to do with the little girl.'
'What about her?' Madden looked up quickly. 'Is something the matter?'
Not that I know of, sir.' Hollingsworth scratched his head. 'Dr Blackwell just wants a word with you.
But she said it was important.'
Madden broke the police seal on the front door of Melling Lodge and went inside. The house lay in semi-darkness, with the curtains pulled. The metallic smell of blood was still strong in the hot, musty air.
Standing in the flagged hall, he pictured the scene as it must have happened. The man with the rifle bursting into the drawing-room from the terrace, glass and wood splintering, the maid with the coffee tray turning, mouth open, ready to scream- In! Out! On guard!
The commands he'd once been taught came back to him, accompanied by a sickening image.
The killer had caught Colonel Fletcher before he could reach the guns in the study, then the nanny in the kitchen, running from room to room down the long passage.
In! Out! On guard!
Why such haste? Madden wondered. What was driving him?
Racing up the stairs he had encountered Lucy Fletcher, dropped his weapon and seized her by the upper arms. He was big and strong, judging by the size of the footprint in the stream bed, if it was his.
Madden saw him picking up the woman by the arms and holding her clear of the floor — they had found no heel marks dragged across the carpet — carrying her into the bedroom and flinging her across the bed like … Lord Stratton's words returned to him: like a sacrifice.
He saw the white throat hideously slashed, the cascade of golden hair…
The nursery, papered with daffodils and bluebells, was at the end of the passage upstairs. It contained two beds, one unmade. Dolls and stuffed toys sat in a row on a wooden shelf. A model aeroplane hung from the ceiling. Madden took a laundry bag off its hook behind the door, emptied it and put in fresh clothes from the cupboard and two pairs of girl's shoes retrieved from a foot locker. Other items went into a brown paper bag he found on top of the cupboard.
A uniformed officer had been posted in the forecourt outside. At Madden's direction he made a list of everything taken from the nursery, which the inspector signed.
'I'm removing these articles from the house,' he told the constable. 'My compliments to Mr Boyce and see that he's informed.'
The avenue of limes led to a pleasant half-timbered house with a garage on one side where a red Wolseley two-seater was parked. The maid, whom Madden had seen upstairs on his previous visit, answered the doorbell.
She led him straight through the drawing-room out into the garden. Dr Blackwell was seated in an arbour at one end of the terrace with a little girl beside her. Sophy Fletcher had waist-length fair hair.
She was dressed in a blue muslin frock belted with a yellow sash.
At the sight of the inspector she sprang from her chair and threw herself on to the doctor's lap, burying her face in her shoulder.
Shocked, Madden halted. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm her.'
He turned to go back inside the house, but Helen Blackwell called out to him, 'Don't go, please.'
To the child, she said, 'Sophy, this is Inspector Madden. He's a policeman.'
The little girl, her face still hidden, gave no response. Madden could see her body trembling.
'Come and sit down,' the doctor urged him. 'I want Sophy to get used to being with strangers again.'
Privately she wondered if it wasn't the inspector's grim aspect that had upset the child. She saw that Madden was carrying a bag in each hand.
'You'll have some lemonade with us, won't you?'
She sought to lighten the deep frown with a smile.
'Mary, pour the inspector a glass, would you?' A jug and glasses stood on the table in front of them.
Madden tugged open the laundry bag. 'I brought some of Sophy's clothes from the Lodge,' he explained.
'How very kind of you.' She was touched by his gesture. 'I was going to ask about that. This is something Mary ran up.' She patted the blue muslin back. 'Luckily Sophy left a pair of shoes here on her last visit.'
'You wanted to talk to me?'
'Yes, please. Later…?' She glanced down at the fair head. 'Could you stay a little while?' He nodded.
'I have a patient to see in the village, but I shan't be long.'
She watched as he sat down and began emptying the brown-paper packet he had brought. He took out several dolls and a teddy bear and began arranging them in a circle on the grassed flagstones in front of him. Mary hovered. The inspector looked up. 'Do you have any old tea-cups?' he asked. 'The more chipped the better. And perhaps a jug of water?'
Dr Blackwell nodded to the maid, who went into the house.
'Sophy…' She nudged the small figure on her lap.
'Look what the inspector's brought.'
The child didn't move. Her face stayed sealed to the doctor's shoulder.
The maid returned with a tray bearing an array of china. She put it on the ground beside Madden. He began to lay out the crockery, rattling the cups and saucers as he did so. Helen Blackwell felt a small movement. The child had turned her head. She was watching out of the corner of her eye.
Madden put a cup and saucer in front of each toy, then placed the jug of water in the centre of the circle.
'Someone will have to pour,' he announced.
Mary started forward, but Dr Blackwell checked her with a gesture. The little girl was stirring. She climbed slowly off the doctor's lap. Keeping a wary eye on Madden she approached the circle of figures and dropped to her knees in front of them. She studied the group for several seconds. Then she picked up the teddy bear and placed him at the head of the circle near Madden's feet. Her eyes met his. Whatever she saw in the inspector's sombre glance seemed to reassure her and she lifted the jug of water and began to pour.