"No. That's just what I can't be. All I can tell you is she gives me the creeps every time I pass her. Something queer is going on here, Inspector." "I wish you could be a little more definite." "So do I. You'll be thinking I'm fanciful.

Well, perhaps I am, but other people feel it comtoo.

Akibombo does. He's scared. I believe Black Bess does, too, but she wouldn't let on. And I think, Inspector, that Celia knew something about it." "Knew something about what?" "That's just it. What? But there were things she said.

Said that last day. About clearing everything up. She had owned up to her part in what was going on, but she sort of hinted that there were other thin,eaeaness she knew about and she wanted to get them cleared up too. I think she knew something, Inspector, about someone.

That's the reason I think she was killed." "But if it was something as serious as that…

Sally interrupted him.

"I'd say that she had no idea how serious it was. She wasn't bright, you know. She was pretty dumb. She got hold of something but she'd no idea that the something she'd got hold of was dangerous.

Anyway, that's my hunch for what it's worth." "I see. Thank you… Now the last time you saw Celia Austin was in the Common Room after dinner last night, is that right?" "That's right. At least, actually, I saw her after that." "You saw her after that? Where? In her room?" "No. When I went up to bed she was going out of the front door just as I came out of the Common Room." "Going out of the front door? Out of the house, do you mean?" "Yes." "That's rather surprising. Nobody else has suggested that." "I daresay they didn't know. She certainly said good night and that she was going up to bed, and if I hadn't seen her I would have assumed that she had gone up to bed." "Whereas, actually, she went upstairs, put on some outdoor thin s and then left the house. is that right?" Sally nodded.

"And I think she was going outto meet someone." "I see. Someone from outside. Or could it have been one of the students?" "Well it's my hunch that it would be one of the students. You see, if she wanted to speak to somebody privately, there was nowhere very well she could do it in the house. Someone might have suggested that she come out and meet them somewhere outside." "Have you any idea when she got in again?" "No idea whatever." "Would Geronimo know, the man servant?" "He'd know if she came in after eleven o'clock because that's the time he bolts and chains the door. Up to that time anyone can get in with their own key." "Do you know exactly what time it was when you saw her going out of the house?" "I'd say it was about-ten. Perhaps a little past ten, but not much." "I see. Thank you, Miss Finch, for what you've told me." Last of all the Inspector talked to Elizabeth Johnston. He was at once impressed with the quiet capability of the girl. She answered his questions with intelligent decision and then waited for him to proceed.

"Celia Austin," he said, "pretested vehemently that it was not she who damaged your papers, Miss Johnston. Do you believe her?" "I do not think Celia did that. No." "You don't know who did?" "The obvious answer is Nigel Chapman. But it seems to me a little too obvious. Nigel is intelligent. He would not use his own ink." "And if not Nigel, who then?" "That is more difficult. But I think Celia knew who it was-or at least guessed." "Did she tell you so?" "Not in so many words, but she came to my room on the evening of the day she died, before going down to dinner.

She came to tell me that though she was responsible for the thefts she had not sabota ed my work. I told her that I accepted that assurance. I asked her if she knew who had done so?" "And what did she say?" "She said," Elizabeth paused a moment, as though to be sure of the accuracy of what she was about to say, "She said, "I can't really be sure, because I don't see why… It might have been a mistake or an accident… I'm sure whoever did it is very unhappy about it, and would really like to own up." Celia went on, "There are some things I don't understand, like the electric lighl bulbs the day the police came." Sharpe interrupted.

"What's tills about the police and electric light bulbs?" "I don't know. All Celia said was: 'I didn't take them out." And then she said: 'I wondered if it had anything to do with the passport?" I said, 'What passport are you talking about?" And she said, 'I think someone might have a forged passport." was The Inspector was silent for a moment or two.

Here at last some vague pattern seemed to be taking shape. A passport.

He asked, "What more did she say?" "Nothing more. She just said: 'Anyway I shall know more about it tomorrow." his "She said that, did she? 'I shall know more about it tomorrow." That's a very significant remark, Miss Johnston." "Yes." The Inspector was silent again as he reflected.

Something about a passport-and a visit from the police… Before coming to Hickory Road, he had carefully looked up the files. A fairly close eye was kept on hostels which housed foreign students. 26 Hickory Road had a good record. Such details as there were, were meagre and unsuggestive. A West African student wanted by the Sheffield police for living on a woman's earnings; the student in question had been at Hickory Road for a few days and had then gone elsewhere, Eind had in due course been gathered in and since deported. There had been a routine check of all hostels and boarding houses for a Eurasian "wanted to assist the police" in the murder of a publican's wife near Cambridge. That had been cleared up when the young man in question had walked into the police station at Hull and had given himself up for the crime. There had been an inquiry into a student's distribution of subversive pamphlets. All these occurrences had taken place some time ago and could not possibly have had any connection with the death of Celia Austin.

He sighed and looked up to find Elizabeth Johnston's davit intelligent eyes watching him.

On an impulse, he said, "Tell me, Miss Johnston, have you ever had a feeling-an impression-of something wrong about this place?" She looked surprised.

"In what way-wrong?" "I couldn't really say. I'm thinking of something Miss Sally Finch said to me." "Oh-Sally Finch!" There was an intonation in her voice which he found hard to place. He felt interested and went on: "Miss Finch seemed to me a good observer, both shrewd and practical. She was very insistent on there being somethin,-odd about this place-though she found it difficult to define just what it was." Elizabeth said sharply, "That is her American way of thought. They are all the same, these Americans, nervous, apprehensive, suspecting every kind of foolish thing!

Look at the fools they make of themselves with their witch hunts, their hysterical spy mania, their obsession over communism. Sally Finch is typical." The Inspector's interest grew. So Elizabeth disliked Sally Finch. Why? Because Sally was an American?

Or did Elizabeth dislike Americans merely because Sally Finch was an American, and hhd she some reason of her own for disliking the attractive red-head? Perhaps it was just simple female jealousy.

He resolved to try a line of approach that he had sometimes found useful. He said smoothly, "As you may appreciate, Miss Johnston, in an establishment like this, the level of intelligence varies a great deal. Some people-most people, we just ask for facts. But when we come across someone with a high level of intelligence-was He paused. The inference was flattering. Would she respond?

After a brief pause, she did.

"I think I understand what you mean, Inspector.

The intellectual level here is not, as you say, very high. Nigel Chapman has a certain quickness of intellect, but his mind is shallow. Leonard Batesen is a plodderno more. Valerie Hobhouse has a good quality of mind, but her outlook is commercial, and she's too lazy to use her brains on anything worth while. What you want is the detachment of a trained mind." "Such as yours, Miss Johnston." She accepted the tribute without a protest. He realised, with some interest, that behind her modest pleasant manner, here was a young woman who was positively arrogant in her appraisement of her own qualities.