Peter took him by the arm.
“Bobby-where was the revolver? Was it in his hand?”
“Yes, it was-it was in his hand.”
“Then why didn’t you think it was suicide?”
Bobby stared.
“I don’t know-I didn’t. I thought they’d put it on me, and I legged it. The stairs were all dark, but there was a light in the hall, and the hall door was open.”
“Do you know what time it was?”
“Yes, I do. That’s one of the things I remember. There was a clock on the mantelpiece. It was five and twenty minutes to three.”
A tingling excitement ran through Peter’s veins.
“Man-are you sure about that? Don’t say you are if you’re not.”
Bobby stared reproachfully.
“But I am sure-really. Didn’t I tell you I was as sober as a judge? Seeing him lying there like that-well, it was the most awful facer. It brought me up with a jerk. I keep seeing it every time I shut my eyes.”
“The point is, did you see the clock?”
“Well, I did. It’s one of those square, chromium-plated ones, and it’s got bright green figures on the face, and the hands were between half past two and five-and-twenty to three.”
“Then,” said Peter, “it wasn’t you that Lucinda saw run down the steps at a quarter past two.”
“Did she see someone?”
“I don’t think there’s the slightest doubt but that she saw Ross’s murderer. Unfortunately she can’t identify him. She only saw a shadow.”
“At a quarter past two?”
“Yes. She found the front door open just as you did, and the door of the flat and the sitting-room door, and Ross lying dead with his own revolver in his hand and Mavis’s powder compact on the floor beside him. And when she saw that, she picked the compact up and ran out of the house, leaving everything open. Now the police found your fingerprints on the banisters and the sitting-room door, and half London heard you threatening Ross on Tuesday night, so when you bolted it seemed perfectly clear to the official mind that you had shot Ross and that Lucinda had seen you getting away. The only thing that nobody has been able to explain is how you got in-and that’s a card you’ll have to play for all it’s worth, my lad. You couldn’t get in without a key unless the front door was open, but the front door was left open by the murderer at two-fifteen or thereabouts, and you found it open when you rolled up at half past two. By the way, what have you done with Mavis?”
Bobby’s mouth fell open.
“Mavis?”
“Mavis,” said Peter firmly. “What have you done with her?”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Where is she then?”
Bobby registered surprise.
“Isn’t she at home?”
“She is not. She walked out of the house on Friday morning and hasn’t been seen since. She is supposed to be with you, and Lucinda is frightfully upset about it. It is apparently worse to be compromised than to be arrested for murder.”
“But this is awful! Where can she be?”
“Perfectly safe, I am sure-you can trust Mavis for that. Now look here, Bobby, I’ve got that tenner you asked for in my pocket. If you shot Ross, take it and make the best get-away you can. But if you didn’t-if you didn’t-take my advice and come along with me to Scotland Yard.”
“Give myself up?”
“You’ve got it in one.”
“But they’ll arrest me.”
“Bound to. But they’ll do that anyhow. If you come along of your own accord, say you got the wind up and bolted, and then tell the yarn you’ve just told me, you’ll get a much better kick-off than if you’re arrested in some purlieu after a nerve-racking time of dodging the police. They’ll get you in the end, so you might as well save yourself the wear and tear and come willingly.”
Bobby came.
Chapter XXXIII
Inspector Lamb sat immovably in his office chair. Mr. Peter Renshaw had been talking for some time. There might be something in what he said, but then again there might not. Time would show. It was a good job getting Foster under lock and key. There was always a lot of chatter about the police if they let anyone slip through their fingers. Mr. Renshaw had done a good job there, persuading him to come in. All in his own interests too, if he was innocent.
Mr. Renshaw reached his peroration.
“It’s the timetable you’ve got to concentrate on, Inspector-you must see that-the timetable, and that outside door. Rush shuts it at eleven. I come in at twelve, find it shut, and leave it as I find it. Ross and Miss Grey come in at one o’clock. I don’t see how anyone is going to argue that they left the door open. Ross opened it with his latchkey-and he withdrew the key, because it was found on him. To my mind it’s quite impossible to suppose that he did that, and didn’t shut the door. Now the murderer went out of that door at a quarter past two and left it open. Miss Craddock, arriving a moment later, finds it open, finds Ross dead, and runs out of the house, leaving all the doors open behind her. About ten minutes or so later Bobby Foster rolls up. He finds the doors open. He finds Ross dead, and the shock sobers him. He says he noticed the clock on the mantelpiece particularly, and that the time was between half past two and five-and-twenty to three. Being sober, he realizes his position and legs it, leaving all doors open. Rush finds the street door open in the morning. Meanwhile Miss Fenton walks in her sleep. She is already standing over Ross with the revolver in her hand when Miss Grey comes in to get the bag she left there earlier in the evening. This was somewhere between ten and five minutes to three. Miss Fenton drops the revolver and wanders back to her own flat. Miss Grey kneels down by Ross to see if he is really dead and gets her dress stained, then looks for her bag, finds it, and comes away, switching off the sitting-room light and shutting the door of the flat. That’s when Miss Bingham saw her the second time. All this is what Miss Grey told her aunt, and it is what decided Miss Craddock to volunteer her statement, because of course if Miss Craddock saw Ross dead at two-fifteen, Miss Grey’s presence in the flat at three o’clock no longer exposes her to suspicion.”
The Inspector broke the pause which followed.
“First of all,” he said, “Miss Craddock’s statement is uncorroborated. Secondly, Mr. Foster’s statement is uncorroborated. She says she was there at two-fifteen. He says he was there at two-thirty. They’ve both got very strong motives for mentioning those particular times, Miss Craddock because she clears her niece, and Mr. Foster because he clears himself.”
“Bobby Foster didn’t know about Miss Craddock’s statement. He didn’t know that the time he mentioned would clear him.”
“It was in the papers,” said the Inspector.
Peter made an impatient gesture.
“I tell you he didn’t know it! Good Lord, man, you’ve seen him! He couldn’t act to deceive a child-you must see that.”
“That’s as may be. Then there’s another thing. You say Mr. Craddock couldn’t have left the front door open when he came in with Miss Grey. But Miss Craddock found it open at a quarter past two. She says she saw someone come down the steps. Well, our theory is that this someone was Mr. Foster. You say it couldn’t have been, because Mr. Foster hadn’t got a key and how did he get in? Well, who had got a key? We’ve communicated with the other tenants. They are all in the places where they are supposed to be, and they’ve all got their keys with them-I’m talking about the street door keys. Do you see where that leaves us? If Mr. Craddock didn’t leave that door open himself, then someone inside the house came down and opened it-and who would be so likely to let Mr. Foster in as Miss Mavis Grey? You’ll say how did she know he was there, but you’ve got to remember it was a hot night and all the windows were open and the curtains back. She may have seen him from her window, or he may have attracted her attention.”