Miss Silver said in her clear ladylike voice,
“You were very kindly going to tell me about the fingerprints, Superintendent.”
Vyner said, “Yes.” He turned in his chair to face her across the corner of the table. “Of course in a family business like this you’re liable to get everybody’s fingerprints everywhere, and you can’t say there’s anything proved by your finding them. Take the handle of this door for instance-it’s just a smudge. Lane, Mr. Pearson, Mr. Wray, and Mrs. Wray all handled it that evening, besides Mr. Paradine himself.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“And the girl who made up the fire.”
Vyner said, “Oh, yes.”
Miss Silver continued.
“She was in here at about nine o’clock.”
“‘Hm! Too early to be of any value. All the others were after nine,” said Colonel Bostock. “We know that.”
“Well then,” said Vyner, “it’s the same pretty well everywhere. Lane, this girl Polly, Mr. Paradine, Mr. Pearson, Mr. and Mrs. Wray-there are prints from all of them. And all we get out of that is that the girl had been at this drawer. Mr. Paradine kept sweets there, and I should say she’d been at them.”
So that was why Polly had blushed and fled-or was it? Miss Silver turned this over in her mind as Vyner went on.
“I haven’t said anything to her about it. But there we are-we’re out to catch a murderer, and all we get is a kid stealing sweets. Well, not quite all, because there are Mr. Mark Paradine’s prints, and they’re not quite so easy to explain. There are his and Mr. Richard’s on the chair the Chief Constable is sitting in, and on the edge of the writing-table, and Mr. Mark’s on the little pocket-diary. Now Mr. Richard, he dropped in to see Miss Paradine in the late afternoon-that’s certain. And he says he looked in on his uncle in the study when he was going away. We’ve only his word for it, but it’s likely enough, and it would explain his prints. But Mr. Mark Paradine- well, there’s no explaining his. He wasn’t here all day Wednesday, or the day before, or the day before that. He arrived for dinner on New Year’s Eve, but he didn’t see his uncle then because Mr. Paradine was closeted with Mr. Wray, and he says, and everyone else says, that he didn’t go anywhere near the study after dinner. He went away with Mr. Richard at a quarter to ten, and he went back to his flat in Birleton Mansions. But after that, he says, he went out for a walk. Queer time of night to choose. The constable on duty at the bridge saw him cross over in the direction of the River House at about 10:20. It was bright moonlight then, and he knows him by sight. Mr. Mark says he walked a bit along the road and then came back. He wasn’t seen coming back, but Harding came off duty at half past ten, and the man who relieved him is a newcomer and wouldn’t take that much notice. It seems to me the only time Mr. Mark could have made those prints was after 10:20, when Harding saw him going in the direction of the River House.”
“Who let him in?” said Colonel Bostock. “Lane didn’t.”
“The door wasn’t bolted, sir. Mr. Mark and Mr. Richard lived here until a few years ago. Nothing more likely than that they still have latchkeys. Or if he hadn’t, Mr. Mark could have come round on the terrace and knocked at the glass door. Everyone in the family knew that Mr. Paradine was waiting up till twelve.”
Colonel Bostock said, “Shocking business.”
“Yes, sir. But that’s when those prints were made-some time after 10:20 on Thursday night. There’s no other time they could have been made.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“Has he been asked for an explanation, Superintendent? He told me frankly that he was under suspicion when he called me in. I informed him that I could be no party to any concealment of evidence, and that my sole obligation would be to do my best to discover the truth. He replied that this was his object in asking for my professional services. Are you aware that this pocket diary belongs to him?”
Colonel Bostock said, “What!”
“A New Year’s gift from Miss Paradine,” said Miss Silver. “Mr. Ambrose, Mr. Pearson, and each of her two nephews had one. They were distributed in the drawing-room after dinner on Thursday night. There were four different colours. The blue one was Mr. Mark’s.”
“God bless my soul!”
“Well, I should say that just about puts the lid on,” said Vyner.
Miss Silver picked up the diary.
“One moment, Colonel Bostock. This is quite a new book, but you will see that it opens of its own accord. If you and the Superintendent will examine it, I think you will agree that the binding had been pressed back so as to keep the diary open at this page-and the date is February 1st.”
Vyner said, “Yes, we noticed that. As a matter of fact we got a very good fingerprint there as well as on the outside. I was coming to that, because it’s a bit odd there are Mr. Mark’s prints both inside and out, and Mr. Paradine’s as well, and where they overlap Mr. Paradine’s are on top. Looks as if there’d been some talk about the date and Mr. Mark had handed him the book to see for himself. As to asking him for an explanation, I thought we might have him in now. I shall have to ask him if he objects to your being present, but seeing he called you in, he won’t have much of a leg to stand on. Then if he’s willing for you to be here, it gives a kind of a lead to the rest of the family, if you take my meaning.”
Miss Silver took it. She inclined her head and murmured graciously,
“That is very kind of you.”
The bell was rung and Mr. Mark Paradine’s company requested. He came in with the look of a man who hasn’t slept, and who rides himself on a strict curb. There was less gloom and moodiness in his aspect than there had been yesterday, more evidence of stern control. If he thought himself to be facing arrest he bore himself well.
Colonel Bostock said, “How do you do, Paradine? Come and sit down.” Vyner said, “Good-morning.” Neither of the men rose, and neither offered to shake hands. From the outset it was perfectly obvious that the interview was of an official nature.
Mark sat down facing Miss Silver. Four people at a table-three in the service of the law, and one in what might very well prefigure the dock.
Colonel Bostock’s expression suggested that he was mentally repeating the words “Very awkward business-very.” He cleared his throat and said aloud,
“Any objection to answering a few questions?”
“Oh, no.”
“No objection to Miss Silver being present? I believe you called her in.”
“No, I’ve no objection.”
Colonel Bostock looked across the table and said,
“All right, Vyner, go ahead.”
The Superintendent turned towards Mark with the diary in his hand.
“Is this your property, Mr. Paradine?”
Mark looked at it, frowning.
“What makes you think so?”
“We are informed that Miss Paradine gave four of these small diaries as New Year’s gifts on Thursday evening. The blue one is said to have been given to you. Is that correct?”
Mark had stiffened a little. He said,
“Quite.”
“These diaries were given in the drawing-room after you had joined the ladies there?”
“Yes.”
“You did not come in here between that time and leaving the house at about a quarter to ten?”
“No.”
“Then, Mr. Paradine, will you explain how it came about that the diary was found on this table when the police arrived at a quarter past eight on the following morning? It has your fingerprints and those of the late Mr. Paradine on the cover and on the page dated February 1st, at which place the book had been bent open. Have you an explanation which you would care to give us?”
Mark found himself looking at Miss Silver, who was looking at him. Her gaze was steady and cheerful. It held the encouragement which a teacher extends to a diffident pupil. In some way which he could not explain he found himself encouraged. He said,