"When did she leave this room this morning to type your letters?"
"Oh, round about ten-thirty! I don't know for certain."
"Did she return at any time between eleven and twelve?"
"No, I don't think so. In fact, I'm sure she didn't."
"What did you do?"
"Got on with my work, of course."
"In this room?"
"Mostly. I went down to the packing room once, and into the ledger department. That's all."
Hannasyde got up and walked over to the window. It overlooked the yard below, and beyond the cover of the lean-to shelter, built at right angles to the house, he could just see the tail of Paul Mansell's car protruding. The body of the car was hidden by the low roof above it.
Paul Mansell watched him with a shade of uneasiness in his face. "What's the matter? What are you getting at?" he asked.
Hannasyde turned his head. "I see that you look out on to the yard," he said. "Did you see Mr. James Kane park his car there this morning?"
"No, I can't say I did. I don't hang out of the window to gape at every car I hear in the yard. Look here, what's this all about?"
Hannasyde came back to the desk. "Upon his way back to Cliff House, after his interview with your father, Mr. Kane met with an accident," he said.
Paul Mansell half started to his feet, "Good God, you don't mean he's dead?"
"No," replied Hannasyde. "Mr. Kane escaped injury. But investigation has disclosed the fact that the accident was caused by the loosening of one of the nuts holding the left ball joint of the track rod of his car in position."
Paul stared at him, his brows knit. "The inference being that I monkeyed about with his blasted car?"
"Not necessarily," said Hannasyde in his quiet way.
"I should dam' well hope not!" Paul said angrily. "What reason have I got to try and kill Jim Kane? Or his cousin Clement, for that matter! I think it's about the limit that you policemen should have the neck to suspect me! Do you suppose I'd be fool enough to murder a couple of men—oh, three, isn't it?—three men, just to put through a potty business deal?"
"There is no need for such heat, Mr. Mansell."
"Well, I think there is! It's about time the air was cleared a bit. You needn't imagine I haven't realised what you've been getting at ever since you came down here! What's more, I know who put you up to it! It was that stagy fool Roberts, trying to do the giddy detective all over the shop!"
The door opened, and Joseph Mansell came into the room, looking worried and a little frightened. "What's all this? What's all this?" he said. "Paul, my boy, really! I could hear your voice in my office! No need to shout—no need to shout, you know! Good afternoon, Superintendent. Now, what is the trouble?"
"Oh, nothing!" Paul said, sinking back in his chair. "Superintendent Hannasyde is just accusing me of trying to murder Jim Kane, that's all!"
"Murder Jim? Good God, what's this, Superintendent?"
"Your son is labouring under a misapprehension, Mr. Mansell. I have accused him of nothing. All I have asked him to do is to account for his movements this morning, while Mr. Kane was in your office."
"Well, well, there's no harm in that: you have to do your duty. But what's this about Jim Kane?"
Hannasyde explained briefly. Joe looked very much shocked, said feebly that he felt sure there must be a mistake, and added that surely the superintendent could not seriously suspect his son of having had anything to do with the accident.
"That's where you're wrong," said Paul mockingly. "He thinks I killed Clement, and probably Silas too. Now I'm rounding off the job with Jim. And what I say is that such a cracked-brained idea would never have come into his head if that meddlesome know-all Roberts hadn't put it there!"
"Paul, my boy, Paul! Gently! I'm sure the superintendent doesn't think any such thing, or Roberts either. You're letting all this worry get on your nerves!"
"Well, and if I am, is it surprising?" retorted Paul. "I've had detectives nosing around till I'm sick of the sight of them, and, on top of that, I've had Roberts dogging my footsteps and coming as near to saying bang out that I murdered Clement as he dare!" He swung round in his chair to face Hannasyde and added venomously: "If you want to chase a wild goose, try him for a change! I've had enough of it! He had just as much motive as I had for killing Clement!"
"Paul!" said his father warningly. "Now, that's quite enough! There's no need to talk in that wild fashion. You know perfectly well that Roberts couldn't possibly have killed poor Clement, even if he had had a motive, which really, my boy, he hadn't. Must keep calm, you know! The superintendent's only doing his duty, after all."
Paul seemed to recollect himself. He flushed and muttered that he was sorry, but that the case was getting on his nerves a bit. Hannasyde, realising that nothing further could be elicited from him, took his leave and left the room in company with Joe Mansell, who went with him to the head of the staircase, trying all the way to excuse his son's outburst.
From Kane and Mansell's offices Hannasyde proceeded to the Cedars, Joe Mansell's comfortable Victorian house situated in a wide avenue leading off the Esplanade. He found the household undergoing the doubtful pleasure of having the children down after tea.
This was a rite enjoyed only by Betty, but her deep-seated conviction that her mother, her husband, and any afternoon visitor who might have been unwise enough to call at the Cedars during her stay there were all filled with an overpowering desire to see the children made it impossible even for so forthright a lady as Agatha Mansell to protest against the daily invasion of her drawing room. It would have hurt Mrs. Pemble's feelings too much. So the children, washed, brushed and dressed in their best clothes, burst into the drawing room regularly at five o'clock every day, loudly and insistently demanding sweetmeats and entertainment.
When Superintendent Hannasyde sent in his card, with a request for a few moments' speech with Mrs. Pemble, Jennifer and Peter, having been coaxed into shaking hands with two visitors and prompted to reply civilly to a number of the fatuous questions invariably addressed to the young by strangers, were engaged in the simple but enjoyable game of launching themselves bodily upon the sofa, mauling the cushions, scrambling off again, and repeating the performance. Their mother at first exclaimed in a shocked voice: "Oh, I can't come now!" but upon reflection consented to tear herself away from her offspring "just for a minute, sweethearts!"
This time limit, if adhered to, would have suited Hannasyde very well. He had not anticipated that his interview would occupy more than five minutes at the maximum, but he realised, within thirty seconds of making Mrs. Pemble's acquaintance, that she was not one of those who could give a plain answer to a plain question. It was indeed some time before he was given an opportunity of asking his question. He had first to gather as best he might from a confused rush of words that Mrs. Pemble had been playing with her children; that she always played with them after tea, and of course at other times too; that she simply couldn't imagine why he should wish to see her; that she knew simply nothing about anything; that she could only spare him a minute; that she thought the whole affair simply too frightful for words; that she was simply trying to put it out of her mind; and, finally, that she was terribly highly strung, though she made a point of simply never talking about herself.
Superintendent Hannasyde, who had not had any tea, felt a trifle dazed by these eager confidences but managed to break in on them and to put his question.
Did Mrs. Pemble recall what her brother had done with his tennis racket upon the last occasion when he had played tennis at Cliff House, the day before Silas Kane's death?
By the time Betty had succeeded in recalling the occasion, which she did by the employment of such landmarks as the-day-Jennifer-had-a-bilious-attack, or the-day-Peter-fell-downstairs, her husband had come into the room and was able to give Hannasyde a prompt answer, "Yes, rather!" he said. "He left it in the summerhouse. I remember his saying so on the way home."