He had been sitting beside a tumbled bed, empty, and near him on the table burned a lamp with a newspaper tied round its shade. There were several bottles, two of them empty, on the table; it was sticky with lemon-peel, soda-water, and sugar; and even the filled ashtrays were damp. Stale smoke hung against the dull lamplight, and the air was nauseously
"Quite right," said Masters. "It's the police. And I'm the one who wants to hear your story, Miss."
"Look," said Emery. He sat down again. He took the stump of a cigarette from a comer of the ashtray, and his hand shook when he put it to his lips. "What kind of crazy business is going on in this place? Somebody knocks at the door, and you open it and there's nobody there. And the lights are out. And somebody ducks around a corner of the hall. "
"What's this?"
"I'm not kidding you! Ask her. It was a little while ago; I don't know when. It can't be Carl being funny, because he never gets that kind of a drunk. Never has, since I've known him I'm telling you, it scared the pants off me for a second. Like somebody was calling my attention to something. I don't know. Crazy, like."
Masters' glance darted to the bed. "Where," he said, "is Mr. Rainger?"
"Oh, he's all right. He went out to-" Emery glanced at the girl, checked himself, and said: "He went to the bath. They feel better when you let 'em alone. But I'm telling you, Cap, that man can't hold much more liquor, or you're gonna have a case of acute alcoholism on your hands. He-"
"Yes," said Masters. "The young lady."
Beryl Symonds had backed away. She was a small brunette, with a pretty if rather heavy face, a somewhat dumpy figure, and earnest brown eyes swollen with weeping. She wore a maid's cap and apron, which she seemed trying to arrange.
She burst out suddenly: "I seen all his pictures! He directs 'em. His name's in as big letters as 'ers. And I couldn't see the harm in talking, but I don't want the sack. Please I don't want the sack!"
"I talked to you," said Masters with slow deadliness, "this afternoon. You said you knew nothing about what had happened last night. That'll tell against you, you know. Were you ever up before a magistrate?"
By degrees they got the story. Bennett, always with the twisted, despairing, and rather ludicrous figure of Rainger in his mind, wondered why he had not anticipated it. Psychologically, it was a!most inevitable with Rainger. He might even have anticipated the twisted and ludicrous sequel. Beryl Symonds had been told to light the fire and prepare Rainger's room when he arrived the afternoon before. He had seen her then; but he had done nothing but give her a certain jocose pinch ("which some gentlemen does, and some gentlemen doesn't"), and mutter arch incomprehensibilities as she left left the room. She had been All of a Flutter, really. And flattered. She had not seen him until late last night, at eleven o'clock, when she was going up to bed. The Master and his guests had been coming back from looking at King Charles's Room. Rainger was some little distance behind the rest, seeming "upset, and mad, and very funny." All of a sudden he stopped and looked at her, waiting till the others were out of sight.
Inevitable? Well, the idea had been that she was to come down to his room at two o'clock when the rest were asleep and he should tell her all about Hollywood. He said that he had a bottle of gin. He said to hell with everything. And she was so much All of a Flutter with the romantic adventure, "just like the films he makes, and think of me in them," that she had said maybe. She went upstairs with the flutter growing; she whispered it to Stella, who had the same room with her, and Stella had a fit and said, "Holy Mother, don't be a daft silly; suppose the master sees you?"
"Never mind that," said Masters. "Did you come down at two o'clock?
But both he and Bennett were beginning to realize the meaning of Rainger's last satiric snarl at Kate Bohun when he went upstairs at half-past one. Beryl cried out, and kept repeating over and over, that all she had meant was to come down and look at him. She seemed to derive strength from this notion of coming down for a last look, and reconnoitering, and making up her mind when she saw him then..
"But when I did go down, I knew I oughtn't to stay the minute I got inside the door. Because Mr. Rainger was a-drinking already, and walking about, and muttering things to himself. Then he turned round and saw me. He started to laugh. For a minute when I saw his face I was so clear awful frightened I couldn't move; that's when I knew it was wrong to come down… "
"Yes, yes; never mind that. What did you do?"
"'E started over after me, sir. And then I saw the key was in the outside of the door, so I got out and pulled the door shut and turned the key in the lock."
Masters looked at Bennett, and slowly rubbed his hand across his forehead.
"But you opened it again, I daresay?" he demanded.
"No, sir! I even held on to the knob outside, and I'd got such a scare I didn't move. And then he called, not very loud, so I could hear him through the transom; 'e said, `What's the idea of this?' That's what 'e said. And then started to get mad and said, `Better open that door, if you don't want me to smash it and rouse the 'ouse, and then where'll you be?' And I couldn't think of anything to say, except I said, `You'd better not,' I said, `because if you do you'll look an awful silly ass, sir, won't you?"'
Beryl swallowed hard. She stared from one to the other of them.
"It was all I could think of to say!" she cried defensively. "And, anyway, it usually stops the gentlemen."
"Quite," said Masters, with noncommittal heaviness. "Well?"
"Then I didn't know what to do, sir, because I was afraid to unlock it, and I didn't want to stay there in the gallery for fear the master might come along like 'e does. So I backed away and stood at the end of the gallery. And he didn't say anything, or make any more noise at all, till 'e tried to climb out through the transom."
"Through the transom," repeated Masters. "What was he wearing then?"
"Wearing? I won't stand," cried Beryl, "for them hints! I won't! I'd rather get the s-sack. 'E was dressed! 'E was in shirt-sleeves. But I knew he couldn't get out by the transom, because it opens the other way; and all he did was get himself mucky on the shoulders a-trying to squeeze through. So he stopped. And I heard 'im say, `You're still there, I'll bet. Never mind. I'm a-going to get drunk.' And he laughed a little. And I was so frightened at the way he said that. sir, I ran on upstairs, and that's the truth so help me, and I didn't let 'im out till morning."
Masters lowered his head.
"Sunk," he said. "Second explanation shot to blazes. And Sir Henry knew it would be, somehow. So that's what the chap meant by saying he had an alibi!" He turned fiercely to Beryl. "Well? What about this morning?"
"Why, I opened the door. And in the meantime there was this awful talk about murder. So I thought, `Aaoow! If 'e tries to say anything to me, and 'e's mad, I'll stop him by telling him first off Miss Tait's gone, poor lady" For a moment Beryl's tears nearly overflowed again. "And it w — worked. So help me, I thought it'd kill 'im. And right away he grabbed my arm and said, `Bohun did it, didn't he? Where's Bohun now?' And I said, `The Master?' And 'e said you know, a word I won't say-'No! the other one.' And I said I didn't know what could 'ave 'append to Mr. John, because his bed wasn't slept in but his things was scattered about; and I told him what I'd 'eard downstairs. Then he wanted me to tell them, in case there was trouble for 'im, about being locked in the room. And I said I would, just to get away from him then. But now Stella's saying the Master says 'e did do it, and I was trying to tell this gentleman. "
"Get out," said Masters.
"Sir?"
"Go on, Miss. Hop it! That's all. Now, now, don't come grabbing my arm, Miss; I'll see what can be done about you. I'm a copper, blast it! That's all I can say, but I'll do what I can."