`This,' she cried again — `this is something horrible to do with Uncle Lester, and I won't have it! He's the only one who's really frightfully nice to me, and he is, and I won't have it.'
She was stamping on the floor, bewildered, turning suddenly to Dalrye…:
`I'll be damned,' the other flared, `if she answers you another question. Listen, Sheila. Go into the other rooms and see if there's anything you want to take along…. '
Hadley was about to interpose when Dr Fell silenced him with a fierce gesture. Then the doctor spoke amiably:
`It's quite all right, my dear. I hadn't meant to upset you, and it wasn't, important, anyway. Do as Mr Dalrye suggests, please…. But there is one thing… You know, I asked you on the telephone whether you would bring somebody along to help you with your things. And I suggested your father's valet…?'
Marks?' she exclaimed, puzzled. `Why, yes. I forgot. He's out in the car '
`Thank you, my dear. There isn't anything else.'
'You go in there and look about, Sheila,' Dalrye suggested. `I'll join you in a moment.'
He waited until the door had closed, Then he turned slowly. There was dull colour under, his cheekbones; he was still visibly shaken, and his mouth worked.
`Listen,' he said. His voice was thick. 'He cleared it with an effort. `I understand all your implications, of course. And you know how much I thought of Phil. But so far as Mr Lester Bitton's concerned I feel the way she does. And I'll tell you you're a lot of damned fools. I know him pretty well. Sheila didn't tell you he was the one who stood up for our marriage when the old man was against it.
`He's not likeable on the surface, as General Mason is. Bitton's cold and efficient when you just look at him. He's not clever, or a good talker. But he's.. you're… a… lot… of… fools,' Dalrye said, suddenly, miserable.
Hadley drummed his fingers on his brief-case.
`Tell us the truth, Mr Dalrye,' he said, after a time. 'We've pretty well found out that there was an affair between Mrs Bitton and Driscoll. Did you know about it?'
`I give you my word,' said Dalrye, simply, `I didn't. Believe me or not. I only got wind of it… well, afterwards. Phil wouldn't have been such a fool as to tell me. I'd have covered him, I suppose, because… oh, well, you can see. But I'd have stopped it, somehow.'
`And do you suppose Sir William knew of it?'
`O Lord, no! He's the last person who would. He's too tied up with his books and his lectures about how the government is running on senile decay…. But, for God's sake, find out who killed Phil!'
`We are going to begin,' Dr Fell' said, quietly, `in precisely two minutes. I mean, we are going to dispose of the nonsense, and then see our way straight to the sense.' Mr Dalrye, will you step outside and ask that valet chap, Marks, to step in here?'
Dalrye hesitated, running a hand through his hair; but at the doctor's imperious gesture he hurried out.
`Now!' urged Dr Fell, hammering his stick on the floor. `Set that table over in front of me. That's it, my boy, hurry!' He struggled up as Rampole lifted the heavy table and set it down with a thump before him. `Now, Hadley, give me your brief-case…. '
`Here!' protested the chief inspector; `stop scattering those papers all over the table!'
Rampole stared in astonishment as the doctor waddled over and picked up a bridge-lamp with a powerful electric bulb. Reeling out its cord from the baseboard, he set the lamp at some short distance from the table.' Then he rolled a low chair under it, and switched on the light. Rampole found the chief inspector's black notebook thrust into his hands.
'That, my boy, is for you,' said the doctor. `Sit down here beside me, on my left. Have you a pencil?… Good! When I give you the word, you are to pretend to be making shorthand notes.'
Hadley made motions like one who sees a priceless vase tottering on the edge of a shelf. `Don't!. Look here, those are all my notes; and if you muck them up!.. You fat lunatic, what is all this…'
`Don't argue,' said the doctor, testily. `Have you got a revolver and a pair of handcuffs on you?'
Hadley looked at him. He said:
`Fell, you're stark, staring mad! They only carry those things in the stories and on the films. I haven't had a revolver or a pair of handcuffs in my hands for ten years.’
`Then I have,' the doctor said, composedly. `I knew you'd forget them.' With the air of a conjuror he produced from his hip pockets both the articles he had mentioned and held them up, beaming. He pointed the revolver at Rampole and added, 'Bang!'
'Look out!' shouted the chief inspector, seizing at his arm. `Be careful with that thing!'
`You needn't worry. It's a dummy pistol even a Scotland Yard man couldn't hurt himself with it. It's just painted tin, you see. The handcuffs are dummies, too, but they both look realistic. I got them at one of those curio shop places in Glasshouse Street, where you buy all the trick things. Here are some more of them. I couldn't resist buying several. There's `a mouse that runs across the table on some sort of roller when, you press him down', - he was fumbling in his pockets — `but we don't need 'em now. Ah, here was what I wanted.'
With manifest pride on his large red face he produced an enormous and impressive-looking gold badge, which he hung on his lapel conspicuously.
`To the man we're going to question,' he observed, `we have got to look like a real crowd of detectives. That we do not look like, the same to the chief of the C.I.D. is of no consequence. But we have got to look the part for Mr Marks's benefit or we shall get nothing out of him. The handcuffs will lie before me, and you, Hadley, will be suggestively fingering the revolver. My young friend here will take down his testimony… Turn out those centre lights, will you?' he added to Rampole. `Just the brilliant spotlight on his face, and ourselves in shadow. I think I shall keep on my hat. We now look sufficiently like the classic group, I think, to have our pictures taken.'
Rampole inspected them as he went to turn out the centre lights. There was a slight suggestion of people having their pictures taken at one of those beach-resort places where you put, your head over the top of a cardboard airship and look foolish. Dr Fell was sitting back sternly, and Hadley looked with a weird expression at the tin revolver hanging by the trigger-guard from one finger. Then there were footfalls in the vestibule. Dr Fell said, `Hist!' and Rampole hastily extinguished the centre lights.
Dalrye saw the tableau a moment later, and jumped violently.
`Bring in the accused!' Dr Fell intoned, with a voice strongly suggestive of Hamlet's father's Ghost.
`Bring in who?' said Dalrye.
`Bring in Marks and lock the door.'
`You can't do it,' said Dalrye, after a moment's inspection. 'The lock's broken.'
`Well, shoot him in,' the Ghost suggested, in a more matter-of-fact tone, `and stand against it, then.'
'Right-ho,' said Dalrye. He was not sure what was going on, but he caught the cue, and frowned sternly as he ushered in Marks.'
The man who appeared was mild, and correct, and very nervous. Not a wrinkle in his neat clothes was out of place, and there was no guile in him. He had a long, lean head, with thin black hair parted sharply in the middle and brushed behind each large, ear.
At the sight of the tableau he froze. Nobody spoke.
`You — you wished to speak to me, sir?' he said, in a curious voice, with a slight jump at the end of it
`Sit down,' said Dr Felclass="underline"
Another silence, while Marks's eyes took in the properties. He lowered himself gingerly into the chair.
`Sergeant Rampole,' said the doctor, 'take down this man's testimony…. Your name?'
'Theophilus Marks, sir.'
Rampole made two crosses and a' squiggle. Occupation?'