While the Inspector was out of the room Ella Harrison sat eyeing Frank Abbott. The beautiful grey suit, the tie and the handkerchief in discreet shades of bluish grey, the immaculately polished shoes, the mirror-smooth hair, the long elegant hands and feet, the cool assured manner, produced an odd mingling of antagonism and respect. She had an impulse to disturb that polished calm, to scream, to throw anything that came handy, but it was an urge that died frustrated. There wouldn’t be any china broken at this interview. Something shrewd and commonplace got the upper hand, something which knew which side its bread was buttered, something that had always made it its business to take care of number one.

When Jack Harrison and Inspector Sharp came into the room she swung round on them. Jack looked nervous, and well he might. He only came just across the threshold and stood there against the door when he had closed it. She said sharply,

‘So you followed me on Tuesday…’

‘Yes, I followed you.’

She gave an angry laugh.

‘Taking a bit of a risk, weren’t you? If I had really met Fred he’d have knocked your head off!’

Frank Abbott intervened.

‘Mr Harrison is here to satisfy you that he did follow you on Tuesday night, that you were only out of his sight whilst turning the corner between Grove Hill Road and Hill Rise, and for the brief time that it took you to skirt the Grahams’ house on your way to the back garden, and on your return from it. Is that correct, Mr Harrison?’

He said, ‘Oh, quite.’

‘Then we needn’t trouble you any further. I take it, Mrs Harrison, you are now satisfied that your husband did follow you, and that he has made a statement as to what he saw and heard. What about it?’

She watched Jack Harrison go out of the room and shut the door before she answered. If she could have had five minutes alone with Jack to find out what he had told them… She might as well think about having the moon. There was nothing for it, she would just have to stick to the truth. She turned round, gave Frank Abbott a hardy look, and said,

‘All right, I’ll play.’

She made her statement, and Sharp took it down. There was some gloss at the beginning. Fred Worple appeared as the old friend whom she couldn’t ask to the house because Jack couldn’t bear her to speak to another man.

‘You’ve really no idea how dull it’s been. Not what I should say was the best way to keep your wife fond of you, but if a man’s jealous he’s jealous, and that’s all there is about it. So when Fred turned up – and mind you, we’d been real good friends – what was the harm in slipping out to a cinema or meeting him somewhere?’

‘And you met him in the gazebo at The Lodge?’

She hesitated, bit her lip.

‘Well, I did once or twice. The Grahams used to be in bed by ten o’clock unless Winifred was playing bridge, and she didn’t often play at night. She was by way of being an invalid, you know, but if you ask me it was mostly put on. She liked being fussed over and she didn’t want Thea to marry… Where was I?’

‘Meeting Mr Worple in the gazebo.’

She gave him an angry look.

‘It was just once or twice when the weather was fine. I wasn’t going there on Tuesday. He was coming here, but he didn’t come.’

There was rather a prolonged pause.

‘Yes, Mrs Harrison?’

‘Oh well, you might as well have it. He was making up to Thea, I’m sure I don’t know why, and I got it into my head that he might be there with her.’

‘That wouldn’t seem very likely.’

She tossed her head.

‘You don’t think about what’s likely when you’ve been expecting someone and they don’t turn up! I thought he might have done it on purpose – I thought he might be with Thea – I thought perhaps he might be expecting me to come to the gazebo. So I went.’

She went on from there to turning into Hill Rise. She had seen a woman run down to catch the bus at the corner of Belview Road. She had slipped in through the tradesmen’s entrance at The Lodge, and she had gone round the house and up the garden to the gazebo.

‘I went up the steps, and just as I got to the top one I had the most awful fright. Someone came barging out and knocked me over. I was thrown against the door and came down smack. I suppose that was when the stone came out of my ring. I know I hit my hand, because it hurt all night afterwards.’

‘It was a man who knocked you down?’

She said quickly, ‘It wasn’t Fred Worple – not tall enough. Besides Fred wouldn’t.’

‘Do you know who it was?’

‘I could make a guess.’

‘Well?’

‘That man Blount that was offering for the house. What did he want it for? I thought it was him at the time, snooping round after everyone was in bed and asleep.’

‘You thought it was Mr Blount. Did you recognize him?’

‘No, I can’t say I did.’

‘Well, go on, Mrs Harrison.’

She stared at him defensively.

‘There isn’t any more. You don’t suppose I was going to stay there after being knocked down like that? I got up and I went back home as quick as I could.’

‘Did you go inside the gazebo?’

Her temper flared.

‘How do you mean, did I go into the gazebo? What do you take me for? I suppose poor Winifred Graham was lying there dead, wasn’t she? If I’d gone into the gazebo I’d have fallen over her! Do you really suppose I’d have come away and left her lying like that? Because I wouldn’t! I don’t know what you think people are made of! Why, she mightn’t even have been dead!’

The Inspector wrote that down, as he had written all the rest. Frank said,

‘Oh, I don’t think there is any doubt that she was dead.’

THE INQUEST ON Mrs Graham was held next morning. Althea described how she had found her mother’s body, medical evidence was taken from Dr Barrington and from the police surgeon who had carried out the autopsy, after which the police asked for an adjournment. The funeral took place early the same afternoon. Miss Silver was thankful when both these events were over.

Althea gave her evidence simply and clearly and took part in the funeral service with quiet self-control. Nicholas sat beside her in the church and slipped a hand inside her arm at the graveside, but it was necessarily a day of severe and continued strain.

Nicholas came back to the house, and Miss Silver left him and Althea together. As far as their personal problem was concerned the outlook had brightened. Nicholas had not been arrested, and in the light of the Harrisons ’ statements it was now in the highest degree unlikely that any charge would be brought against him.

Frank Abbott went up to town to confer with his superiors, and presently found himself making for Cleat in a police car driven by Sergeant Hubbard, who was wearing a suit the twin of his own in everything but cut, and a handkerchief, a tie, and a hat which were reverential copies. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it must be admitted that when owing to a calamitous difference in personal appearance the imitation approximates to parody, the result may be a severe strain upon the temper of the person imitated. There were times when Detective Inspector Frank Abbott was amused, and there were times when he was exasperated. This was one of the times when he was exasperated.

But the afternoon was a fine one, Sergeant Hubbard a very good driver, and once clear of London and its suburbs the scenery extremely pleasing. There was also the satisfaction of feeling that the case was practically in the bag, and that Jack Harrison had been prompted to unburden himself in time for the mistake of arresting Nicholas Carey to be avoided. The Press is not backward in looking after its own. The Janitor had a reputation. He thanked his stars that it had not been afforded a chance of living up to it.