It is probable that Mactavish heard his name. He obliged with a dramatic entry, walking in through the open door, his tail held high and all his orange fur fluffed out. Seeing his whole family assembled, and not caring for the manner of it, he surveyed the strange man at the table with hauteur, opened his mouth in a soundless mew of protest, and went disdainfully back down the two shallow steps into the sunny garden.
The Inspector rapped.
“You heard something in the nature of a cry. Did you hear any sound of movement in the house? Did you hear Miss Adrian leave her room? I don’t mean when you were all going to bed, but later when the house had settled down.”
She shook her head regretfully.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so-only this cat, or bat, or whatever it was.”
He swung round on Penny, who had not moved at all.
“You, Miss Halliday-did you hear anything outside or in?”
She said, “No.”
Her face was bloodless under its tan. He could only just hear the word. Well, thank God everyone wasn’t a gas-bag. He swung back again.
“Mrs. Brand, your room looks the other way, but you could have heard sounds in the house. Did you hear anything at all?”
She sat there stout and shapeless in the black dress with the brown and red pattern which looked like smears of mud and red ink. Her large smooth face, usually of an even pallor, was considerably flushed. Her prominent brown eyes were fixed in an angry stare. She had a linen handkerchief in her hand, and every now and then she fanned herself with it. She said in her heavy voice,
“No, I didn’t hear anything.”
“Mr. Felix Brand’s room is next to yours. Did you hear him leave it?”
“No. I am a sound sleeper.”
He made an abrupt movement.
“Well, that’s everyone on this side of the house-Miss Adrian being dead and Mr. Felix Brand missing. I’ll now take the next-door people. Miss Brand-did you hear anything?”
Marian returned his look with a steady one.
“I don’t know, Inspector. I woke up suddenly in the night, but I don’t know what it was that waked me. I couldn’t say that it was a cry, but I woke with the feeling that something had startled me. I sat up in bed and listened, but I didn’t hear anything more, so I went to sleep again.”
“Can you fix the time at all?”
“I didn’t look at my watch. It was high tide.”
He came back quickly.
“Sure about that?”
“I could hear the water. You don’t hear it when the tide is out.”
He looked round the circle.
“Anyone know when the tide would be high?”
Richard Cunningham said,
“It was pretty far out at seven o’clock yesterday evening.”
“Low tide seven-twenty,” said Eliza Cotton.
Crisp nodded.
“That’s near enough. We can check up on it. Then it would be high tide round about one a.m. Low again about half past six, and coming up now. If you heard the sea when you woke up, Miss Brand-well, I suppose it might be high enough for you to hear any time between twelve and two, or say a bit more margin than that.”
The constable on the piano-stool wrote in his notebook, using a clear, neat script.
Crisp passed on to Ina.
“Mrs. Felton, your room is next to your sister’s-looks the same way. Did you wake in the night at all?”
Marian put her hand over her sister’s and found it cold. She felt it give a little nervous jerk as Ina said in a breathless voice,
“No-I didn’t wake.”
It went through Marian’s mind that if you haven’t slept you cannot wake. She did not think that Ina had slept at all. She had not taken off the clothes which she had been wearing the night before. She had not slept.
“You didn’t wake up, and you didn’t hear anything?”
The hand that Marian was covering twitched again. Ina said,
“No.”
His keen bright eyes remained fixed on her.
“Was Miss Adrian a friend of yours?”
She shook her head, then, as if realizing that something more was needed, came to hesitating speech.
“I didn’t know her-at all-only these two or three days.”
“Any quarrel with her?”
She was startled into awareness.
“Oh, no. I don’t think I spoke to her more than twice, and then only a few words.”
He said sharply,
“I ask because you look as if this has been a considerable shock.”
Ina felt the hand on hers press down with a strong, comforting warmth. Marian said quietly,
“It has been a very great shock. My sister isn’t strong.”
He gave a sort of nod and swung round to Eliza.
“Now, Miss Cotton-you’re in the third room facing that way, the attic, aren’t you? Did you hear anything?”
Standing there with her hand on the back of Penny’s chair, Eliza sniffed.
“I did not.”
“Sure about that?”
There was a second and more portentous sniff. When Penny or Mactavish heard that sound they knew enough to make themselves scarce. Inspector Crisp did not.
Eliza’s temper had been working up for some time. She now let it go with what was no longer a sniff but a snort.
“There are those that’ll lie as soon as look at you, and there are those that won’t whether they’ve taken a Bible oath or not. Thank God I’ve got my sleep, and when I go to my bed I’m not listening for any bats, or cats, or such-or expecting that people’ll be murdered and police officers come asking a lot of questions nobody can answer.”
Crisp was irresistibly reminded of his Aunt Aggie, a lady whose temper intermittently afflicted her family. She would come on a visit and stay until some dynamic quarrel hurled her on to the next suffering relative.
He said hastily, “That’s all I want to hear, Miss Cotton,” and came round with relief to Cyril.
“Well, Mr. Felton, you’re on the wrong side of the house, unless-you weren’t sharing your wife’s room last night?”
Nothing could have been pleasanter than Cyril’s,
“Oh, no. She hasn’t been very well.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“I’m afraid not. I am a pretty sound sleeper.”
Crisp looked from one to the other, frowning.
“When Sergeant Jackson got here this morning it was stated that the whole party, including Mr. Cunningham who didn’t sleep in the house, another visitor who left early, Miss Adrian, and Mr. Felix Brand, were all together for several hours at a picnic in the cove. Mr. Cunningham is stated to have left at half past ten.” He turned to Richard. “That correct?”
“Yes.”
“The parties on the two sides of the house had supper and spent the evening oh their own premises, but both parties say they had separated for the night by a little after half past ten. That is correct? I just want to confirm it.”
There was a general murmur of assent. Miss Cassy said brightly,
“A quarter past ten is my hour, Inspector-winter or summer.”
He rapped on the table.
“I will ask you again. Did anyone hear Miss Adrian leave the house? Or Mr. Felix Brand?”
A deep persistent silence followed each of these questions. He made an impatient movement.
“Mrs. Brand, you told Sergeant Jackson that none of your son’s clothes were missing except the pair of flannel slacks and the pullover which he was wearing last night?”
Florence Brand said, “That is all.”
“Except his bathing-suit,” said Cassy Remington. She turned helpfully to the Inspector. “Plain black stockinette. So neat and workmanlike, I always think. And he is such a good swimmer.”
He gave her his most repressive stare.
“I was speaking to your sister. Mrs. Brand, I want to know how your son would dress if he were going out for an early morning dip.”
Florence Brand said,
“Like that. He would put on a pair of trousers and a sweater over his bathing-suit unless it was really hot.” She paused, fanned herself with the linen handkerchief, and said in her slow, deep voice, “I had better put you right about our relationship. Felix is not my son.”