“Now we come to the events of last Sunday morning, Mrs. Hambleton.”
“There is little to tell, Mr. Pons. I arrived as usual and was stupefied to find the front door unlocked. The safe was ajar and the money gone. There was only the one shelf on top which held the money. The interior of the safe was divided up into separate little strong-boxes where Miss Schneider kept papers, deeds and so forth. These were always kept locked.”
“You searched the house, of course?”
“Naturally, Mr. Pons, but she was nowhere to be found. I was thoroughly alarmed and when I went outside again I then noticed Miss Schneider’s foot-prints in the snow, going away down the side garden, in the direction of the old shed.”
“How did you know they were Miss Schneider’s footprints?”
“They were distinctive, Mr. Pons. Because she is so parsimonious, she has special hard-wearing rubber soles put on her elastic-sided boots. They have very large cleats on them, which give an unmistakable V-pattern. I have noticed them imprinted in mud on.the drive in wet weather, and I recognised them immediately in the snow.”
“Excellent! You would make a first-rate police officer yourself, Mrs. Hambleton.”
The housekeeper’s face flushed with pleasure and she looked at my companion appreciatively.
“What then?”
A hesitant look from the questioned.
“I sensed disaster, Mr. Pons. I feared what I might find down the garden. I called the police immediately and Sergeant Chatterton here told me what he had discovered.”
“There is nothing to be ashamed of in that, Mrs. Hambleton. Death in any shape or form is hardly pleasant.”
My companion consulted the sheet of paper Rossiter had handed him. But the questions I had expected did not come.
“Tell me, Mrs. Hambleton, I believe you used to have a full-time gardener here?”
The housekeeper looked as mystified as the rest of us.
“That is so, Mr. Pons. Old Angus Crathie. He was as cantankerous as Miss Schneider. They both respected one another and the sparks always flew when they were discussing how the garden should be laid out and such matters. But they got on fine together!”
Pons chuckled quietly to himself.
“So it sometimes goes,” he added. “I believe the old man has been dead some while now.”
The housekeeper nodded, replacing her cup in her saucer with a faint chinking sound.
“Several years, Mr. Pons. Old Miss Schneider became even more impossible after his death. They were two of a kind, really. They respected one another.”
“She did not haggle about his wages, then?”
“No, Mr. Pons, strangely enough. I believe she even paid him over the odds. Like many self-willed bullying people, she was even a little afraid of him. He had a devil of a temper when he was roused.”
She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper.
“He used to drink sometimes down in that shed. He would hurl the empty whisky bottles down into the stream through an opening he made in the back of the building.”
“Indeed. One of the minor eccentrics of which the British race throws up a good many examples, Parker.”
“As you say, Pons.”
“Did the old man leave any of his property here when he died, Mrs. Hambleton?”
The housekeeper’s sad face, framed in its mane of grey hair, looked pensive.
“A few things, Mr. Pons. His tobacco pouch and pipe, a small stock of whisky, his old boots, a silver watch that was an heirloom. He had no family so Miss Schneider kept them in a cupboard here just in case anyone should claim them.”
Pons took one of the sandwiches and looked at it pensively as though it held an important key to the problem of Miss Schneider’s murder.
“If it is not a rude question, Mrs. Hambleton, why did you and Mrs. Rose stick such unpalatable conditions all these years?”
The housekeeper looked defiant now.
“I felt sorry for her, if you must know the truth, Mr. Pons. She was her own worst enemy and she needed looking after. There was so much money about the house, she was a danger to herself as well as a temptation to others.”
The housekeeper hesitated, prompted by Pons’ sympathetic look.
“Times are hard, Mr. Pons. Both Mrs. Rose and I needed the money, and Miss Schneider was not ungenerous in the matter of food and little extras she let us take home. It was actual cash she found so difficult to get rid of.”
The cook flashed a look at her companion.
“Though she was always grumbling and complaining about it whenever we did take advantage of her offers. There was another thing, too.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rose?”
“Mr. Watling. Such a charming young gentleman. Though he came here rarely we always looked forward to his letters and visits.”
She looked fiercely at Inspector Rossiter, who stirred uncomfortably.
“And nothing will ever make us believe he did this terrible thing.”
“Bravo, Mrs. Rose,” I could not resist putting in and Miss Chambers flushed as she caught my eye.
“Be that as it may, Parker, we still have some way to go before we can clear this up,” said Pons gently. “I should like, Inspector, to ask your indulgence in one matter.”
“What might that be, Mr. Pons?”
“I should appreciate it if the people who visited this house on Saturday could be brought here tomorrow afternoon so that I can ask them a few questions.”
“Good heavens, Pons!” I said. “Supposing they will not come?”
“I don’t think there will be any difficulty in that, Mr. Pons,” said Rossiter. “They will all wish to do everything they can to assist. Of course, that vagrant may have moved on but if he is still there I will have him brought by car from Colchester Spike.”
“Spike, Inspector?”
Pons was smiling.
“It is the somewhat picturesque vernacular for workhouse, Parker. Where itinerants receive meals and a bed for the night in return for doing manual and other work about the place.”
“You are a mine of information, Pons.”
“Am I not, Parker,” said my companion drily. “And now, if no-one has any objection, let us leave these puzzling questions temporarily and finish our tea in peace.”
-7-
As Pons had predicted it snowed heavily that evening and from the warmth of the dining-room of The Dun Cow, Pons, myself and Miss Chambers looked out at a forbidding world of whirling white flakes. But my companion was in high good humour.
“We were just in time, Parker,” he commented, handing me an excellent Brie with which to conclude the meal and though he was affable, not to say expansive, he refused utterly to answer any further questions about the case. Miss Chambers was naturally anxious for her fiancé but Pons put himself out to set her at ease and to allay her fears and when I awoke to a strange world of blank silence and whiteness the next morning I had a firm conviction that matters would come to a head before the day was out.
I found a pencilled note from Pons which had been thrust beneath my door and learned that he had gone out afoot early. Miss Chambers and I breakfasted alone and at mid-morning, taking coffee before the blazing fire in the lounge I was called to the telephone to learn from Inspector Rossiter that all the people Pons required had been contacted, including the tramp, and that he would guarantee them all present at The Pines at half-past two that afternoon. From what he said I gathered they had all been co-operative and anxious to help, apart from the vagrant.
I transmitted this news to Miss Chambers and awaited Pons’ return to the hotel with some impatience. The snow was very thick out but not enough to make the roads impassable and none had fallen since that of the night. At about a quarter to one Pons appeared in the lounge bar where we were enjoying a pre-lunch drink, carrying a brown paper parcel. He seemed inordinately pleased with himself and greeted my news of the Inspector’s message with satisfaction.