He introduced himself and Frank with solid dignity.
“Detective Inspector Lamb of Scotland Yard, and Sergeant Abbott. Sit down, Mr. Leigh. I hope you will be able to help us. I’ve got your statement here, and I’d like to ask you a few questions. Now, how well did you know Mr. Porlock?”
Justin had been thinking that these two were interesting examples of the old-style policeman and the new. Lamb the product of village school, secondary education, and the wide, unsurpassable university of experience. Solid as English earth and English beef, that’s what he looked. The countryman’s burr on his tongue, the countryman’s balanced shrewdness in his eye. Just so the bargaining farmer balancing prices against pigs and heifers. These were larger matters, but the shrewdness and the competence were the same. Abbott might be any young man in his own club-public school- Police College -clothes that looked as if they came from Savile Row-noticeably well-kept hands. He wondered if he would ever fill the old man’s boots. He didn’t look as if he would, but you never could tell. The impression passed in a flash. He said,
“I didn’t know Mr. Porlock at all. I never met him until yesterday when I arrived here with Miss Lane in time for tea.”
Lamb nodded.
“ Miss Lane brought you-then you know her?”
“I know her very well. Perhaps I’d better explain. Mrs. Oakley’s secretary, Dorinda Brown, is my cousin. She has only just gone to the job, and as she is quite young and I’m her only relation, I thought I would like to meet the Oakleys. I was trying to find out something about them, and to meet someone who knew them. Porlock’s name was mentioned as being a near neighbour of theirs in the country, and very friendly with Martin Oakley.”
“Who mentioned it?”
“It was Miss Lane. So when she said she was coming down here for the week-end and she could easily ring up and suggest bringing me, I rather jumped at it.”
“ Miss Lane knew Mr. Porlock well?”
“I don’t know how well she knew him. They seemed to be on very friendly terms. She told me he loved entertaining and practically kept open house. He was certainly a most genial host.”
“How did he strike you, Mr. Leigh?”
Justin considered.
“Well, he was what I’ve just said, a genial host. A lot of social charm-all that sort of thing. And enjoying himself. That’s what struck me more than anything else. It was an ill-assorted, uphill party, and it must have been hard work, but I’d swear he was enjoying himself.”
Lamb focussed the stare upon him.
“Just what do you mean by ill-assorted, Mr. Leigh?”
Justin’s charming smile appeared.
“You won’t ask me that after you’ve met them.”
Lamb grunted and let it go.
“Anyone appear to be out of sorts-nervous-out of temper?”
“Well, of course I don’t know what Mr. Tote’s like as a rule, but I suppose you could say he was put out.” He laughed a little. “That’s putting it mildly. He didn’t talk, he didn’t join in any of the games. He looked as if he was in a foul temper, and just sat.”
“Eat his dinner?”
Justin couldn’t help laughing.
“Everything he could get hold of. Porlock has a marvellous cook.”
“Anyone else seem put out?”
“Well, as I said, I don’t know these people. Masterman may go about looking like a death’s head all the time-he was certainly spreading gloom last night. The sister looks as if she hadn’t smiled for years.”
“Mr. Leigh, I’d like to ask you something, but of course you don’t need to answer if you don’t care to. It’s not anything personal. I’d just like to know how Mr. Gregory Porlock struck you. You said he had a lot of what you’d call charm. What I’d like to know is just this-would you have said he was straight?”
Well-would he? He wondered what he would have thought if he hadn’t known what he did. Very difficult to divest yourself of knowledge and decide what your mental processes would have been without it. Once Dorinda had said “He’s the Wicked Uncle,” he couldn’t go back and judge the man as Gregory Porlock. And was he going to tell the Chief Inspector about the Wicked Uncle? He thought not. Dorinda would almost certainly do so-the art of practising a concealment was one to which she would never attain. There was something reposeful in the thought. He decided that she might be left to deal with the Wicked Uncle in her own ingenuous manner. Meanwhile there was no reason why he shouldn’t say what he thought. With no more than what seemed quite an ordinary pause for consideration he replied,
“No, I don’t think I would.”
After a moment or two, during which he appeared to be digesting this answer, Lamb returned to the charge.
“I’d like to ask you something in confidence. These people who were here last night-they were all strangers to you except Miss Lane?”
Justin nodded. “And my cousin, Dorinda Brown.” He wondered what was coming.
“They say lookers-on see most of the game. You’ll understand this isn’t to be talked of, but what I’d like to know is this- would it surprise you to hear that some of these people were being blackmailed?”
“By Porlock?”
“You’ve got it.”
“Well then-no.”
Lamb leaned forward.
“Which would you pick on, Mr. Leigh, if you had to make a guess?”
Justin frowned.
“I don’t think I care about guessing in a murder case.”
Lamb gave a slow, ponderous nod.
“I’ll put it another way. We have evidence that two of the party were being blackmailed. You’ve mentioned two of the party being out of sorts-Mr. Tote and Mr. Masterman. What about the others? Any sign of relations being strained?-with Mr. Porlock I mean. What about Mr. Carroll?”
Justin said, “Carroll is an actor.” The words were no sooner out than he regretted them. He said quickly, “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t like the fellow, but there was nothing to make me say what I did.”
Another of those slow nods.
“That’s all right, Mr. Leigh.”
The questions went on. Everything that had been said or done came under the microscope. Presently it was,
“Did you happen to notice that Miss Lane was wearing a bracelet-could you describe it?”
He could, and did.
“A kind of diamond trellis-panels set with rubies.”
“Valuable?”
“Extremely, I should think.”
“Ever seen it before?”
“No. As a matter of fact, Miss Lane came into the drawing-room before dinner and showed it to us. She said it had been lost, and Porlock had got it back for her. She seemed very grateful.”
“Will you tell me as nearly as possible what was said?”
When he had done so the questions began again. The evening was gone through down to the time of the murder.