'Yes,' I said. 'There may not be anything in it, but they might make general inquiries there about the two men, Peters and Harris. What I particularly want to know is where Harris got his money — if he was insured or anything. It's rather a shot in the dark, I know, but there's just a chance these people may be useful. I think they'll have to be handled delicately. I mean, I don't think it could be done by phone.'
He nodded. 'All right, my boy. Anything that helps us to get any nearer to this terrible thing, don't you know.... Pussey's going to put a man on to that feller, Heigh-ho.'
He paused abruptly, and stood looking at me.
'Let's hope he doesn't lead us to anyone...'
He broke off helplessly.
'I'm coming down to Halt Knights now,' I murmured.
He coughed. 'I'll follow you down. Don't alarm her, my boy; don't alarm her. Can't bring myself to believe that she's anything to do with it, poor little woman.'
Kingston was waiting for me in the drive. He was exuberant. The turn affairs were taking seemed to stimulate him.
'I suppose it's all in the day's work for you?' he said a little enviously, as I climbed in beside him. 'But nothing ever happens down here, and I should be inhuman if I wasn't interested. It's rather shocking how the human mind reacts to someone else's tragedy, isn't it? I didn't know Harris, of course, but what I did see of him didn't attract me. I should say the world's a better place without him. I saw him just before he died, you know, or at least an hour or so before, and I remember thinking at the time that he constituted a waste of space.'
I was busy with my own problems, but I did not wish to be impolite.
'When was this?' I said absently.
He was anxious to tell me.
'On the stairs at Halt Knights. I was going up to see my little patient with jaundice, and he came staggering down. I never saw a fellow with such a hangover. He brushed past me, his eyes glazed and his tongue hanging out. Didn't say good morning or anything — you know the type.'
'That patient of yours,' I said. 'She must have been upstairs all through the incident...?'
He turned to me in surprise. 'Flossie?' he said. 'Yes, she was; but you're on the wrong tack there. She's away at the back of the house in a little top attic. Besides, you must have a look at her. The poor little beast is a bit better now, but a couple of days ago she couldn't stand, poor kid. However, she may have heard something. I'll ask her.'
I told him not to bother, and he went on chattering happily, making all sorts of useless suggestions. When I listened to him at all, he had my sympathy. A life that needs a murder to make it interesting must, I thought, be very slow indeed.
When we arrived he went straight up to see his patient, but I sought out Poppy in the lounge. It was early, and we were alone. She seemed delighted to see me and, as usual, insisted on getting me a drink at once. I followed her into the bar while she mixed it, and hurried to put the question that was on my mind before Kingston should return.
'You say you remember yesterday morning very clearly?' I said. 'Did you have a visitor who left here some little time before the accident? Someone who wasn't in the house at the time, but who wandered off within half an hour or so of the trouble?'
She paused in the act of scooping little blocks of ice out of the refrigerator tray.
'No, there was no one,' she said, 'unless you count the parson.'
I took off my spectacles.
'Bathwick?'
'Yes. He always comes in round about twelve o'clock. He likes his highballs American fashion, like this thing I'm mixing for you. He never has more than one. Drops in about twelve o'clock, drinks it, and trots out again. I saw him to the door myself yesterday morning. He goes off through the kitchen garden to the stile leading into the Vicarage meadow. Why?'
I stood looking down at the glass in my hand, twirling the ice round and round in the amber liquid, and it was then that I had the whole case under my nose.
Unfortunately, I only saw half of it.
CHAPTER 11. 'WHY DROWN HIM?'
I was still working it out when Poppy laid her hand upon my arm. I turned to find her plump face flushed and anxious.
'Albert,' she murmured confidentially, 'I can't talk now because Kingston's just coming down, but there's something I want to say to you. Ssh! There he is.'
She turned back to the bar and began to bustle among the glasses. Kingston came in, cheerfully superior.
'She's all right now,' he said, grinning at Poppy, 'or will be in a day or two. Don't let her eat too much grease. Like to come up and see her, Campion?'
Poppy raised her eyebrows at him, and he explained. She began to laugh at us.
'The child hasn't the strength, and she hasn't the wits,' she said. 'And if she had she wouldn't do it. She's a good little girl, our Flossie. Flossie, indeed! I've never heard of anything so futile.'
Kingston was very insistent, however, and his anxiety to keep in the picture might easily have been exasperating if there had been anything pressing to be done. As it was, I went upstairs with him through a maze of corridors and unexpected staircases until we found the little attic under the roof at the far end of the house from the box-room.
As soon as I met Flossie I saw they were right. Her little yellow face was pathetic and disinterested. Kingston asked her questions — had she heard anything? Had she been out of the room? Had anything unusual happened on the day before? — and she answered 'No, sir' to them all with the weary patience of the really ill.
We left her and went along to have another look at the box-room. It was just as I had left it. Kingston was tremendously knowing and important. Evidently he fancied himself in his new rôle.
'There's a scratch there,' he said, pointing to the one I had already noticed. 'Does that tell you anything, Campion? It looks fairly new, doesn't it? How about getting some finger-prints?'
I looked at the rough cast sadly, and led him away.
We got rid of him at last. He offered to drive me down to the Police Station, but I refused, explaining that Leo was coming to pick me up. I caught sight of Poppy as I spoke, and saw her turn colour.
We stood in the window together and watched Kingston's car disappear down the drive. She sighed.
'They're bored,' she said. 'They're all bored, poor darlings. He's a nice boy, he doesn't want to be a ghoul; but it'll all give him something to talk about when he goes to see his patients. It must be terrible going to see people every day if you haven't got anything to tell them, don't you think?'
'Yes,' I said dubiously. 'I suppose it is. What have you got to tell me, by the way?'
She did not answer me immediately, but the colour came into her face, and she looked like some large guilty baby faced with confession.
'I had a few words with Leo yesterday,' she began at last. 'Not that I mind, of course, although it does do to keep in with one's clients, and — er — friends. I can see that I've annoyed him. I told him a silly lie, and then I didn't like to explain. You can see that happening, can't you?'
She paused and eyed me.
'I can,' I said cheerfully.
'The stupid thing is that it doesn't matter,' she went on, playing with her rings. 'People down here are terrible snobs, Albert.
I didn't quite follow her, and I said so.
'Oh well, it's Hayhoe,' she said explosively. 'An awful little bounder, Albert, but probably quite human, and he's got to live, like anybody else, hasn't he?'
'Wait a minute,' I said. 'I've got to get this straight. Is Hayhoe a friend of yours?'
'Oh no, not a friend.' She brushed the term away irritably. 'But he came to me for help last week.'