The Unfinished Clue (13 page)

"Yes, sir, that I do know he did, for I was in the hall at the time. But we found it just like you see, not tampered with at all."

"Any finger-prints?" inquired Harding, his eyes on the pencil that lay on the desk.

"No, nothing of that kind. Quite clean it was." He looked rather dubiously at Harding. "Were you thinking there might have been robbery, sir?"

"No, I should say most unlikely."

"That's what I thought," said the Sergeant, glad to find himself in agreement.

Harding had picked up a slip of paper on the top of tie sheaf on the desk. Some memoranda had been jotted down on it in pencil. Harding considered the pencil again for a moment.

"Looks like the General was making a list of what he had to do," suggested the Sergeant helpfully.

"It looks as though he were interrupted while he was doing so," said Harding. "He did not finish the last note he made."

"No more he did!" said the Sergeant, stooping to read the pencilled scrawl more nearly. "'Speak to Lester," (that's the gardener) and then "See Barker about."

Well, that isn't sense, is it? The General wouldn't write a thing like that. He was a very methodical man. No, you're right, sir. Someone interrupted him before he had time to put down what he wanted to see Mr Barker about, and what's more he didn't finish that memo, afterwards, because he was dead."

"Well, perhaps that's leaping to conclusions a bit," said Harding. "At the same time it is just possible that he was jotting down that note when his murderer entered the room, and equally possible that at the moment when the blow was struck he was still holding the pencil in his hand."

The Sergeant turned this over in his mind. "You're thinking of that bit of writing the Superintendent showed you," he pronounced.

"I am, yes." Harding laid the slip of paper aside, and began to go through the others littered over the desk. There was nothing amongst them of any interest, and when he had glanced through them he turned to the waste-paper basket beside the chair. It was half-full of torn and crumpled letters which a cursory inspection informed Harding were either circulars or begging appeals. Under these were the scattered fragments of a cheque, torn into four pieces. Harding lifted these out and laid them on the desk, piecing them together.

The Sergeant drew nearer, watching this process. When it was finished he was silent for a moment. Then he said: "That's black, sir."

"At any rate," said Harding, "it would seem to explain Mr. Halliday's quarrel with the General."

The cheque had not been passed through a bank. It was dated July 1st, and was drawn for fifty pounds, made payable to Mrs. Camilla Halliday. The General's signature was written at the bottom of it.

There was nothing else in the waste-paper basket of importance, and after a quick glance at two circulars and the notice of a meeting of the Silsbury branch of the British Fascisti, Harding gathered together the torn cheque and rose to his feet. "I'll take a look at the position of the other rooms on this floor now, Sergeant. Keep a man on duty here till the safe's been opened, will you?"

"Yes, sir. Do you make anything of it?" inquired the Sergeant diffidently.

"Not very much yet. There are one or two points." He went to the fireplace, and pressed the bell that flanked it.

The butler came presently in answer to the bell's summons, and escorted the Inspector over the ground floor of the house rather in the manner of a guide in a historic mansion. Leading him through the dining-room to the service door outside the pantry, he brought him back again by way of the swing door shutting off the servant's wing from the hall. He then led the way to the garden-hall, like the kitchens, on the east side of the house, pointed out the back stairs, returned to the hall. and entered the billiard-room. From the windows Harding obtained a view of the terrace, where the houscparty was gathered for tea. He declined going into the drawing-room. "Thanks, I think I have a pretty good idea of the house now," he said. "I want to see the various people who are staying here next. Can you show me a room where I shan't be disturbed, or in the way?"

"I think the morning-room would be the most suitable. sir,". said Finch, standing aside to allow him to pass on into the hall again. "This way, if you please."

Harding nodded to the Sergeant, waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. "Will you come along too, Sergeant?" He consulted a list from his pocket-book, and glanced up at the butler. "Is Mrs. Twining by any chance in the house?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Twining is on the terrace now."

"Then will you ask her, please, if she will come here?" said Harding.

There was a square table in the middle of the room. When the butler had gone Harding pulled a chair out from it, and sat down with his back to the light. The westering sun was streaming into the room, and the windows stood open to admit as much air as could be obtained on this hot, windless afternoon.

Harding spread his papers out on the table, and chose from amongst them Mrs. Twining's original statement. He was running his eye over this when Finch opened the door, and announced Mrs. Twining. She came in, looking slightly bored. She was wearing a lavender frock that subtly conveyed the impression of half-mourning; and a large black straw hat with a high crown was set at an angle on her well-coiffed head. "Good afternoon, Inspector," she said, surveying him in her cool, ironic way.

Harding rose, and came round the table to pull up a chair for her. "Good afternoon," he said. "Won't you sit clown? I want you, if you will, to answer one or two questions."

She took the chair he had placed for her, and moved it a little out of the direct sunlight. "Certainly," she said. "But at my age, Inspector, one does not sit in the full glare of the sun. It is not fair to oneself." She sat down, leaning one elbow on the wooden chair-arm, and with the other hand holding her bag lightly in her lap. She became aware of the Sergeant standing by the fireplace and fixedly regarding her. Her brows rose a little, and her lips parted in a faint smile. "Ah, good afternoon, Sergeant" she said.

"Mrs. Twining, can you remember the precise time of your arrival here yesterday morning?" asked Harding.

"Perfectly," she replied. "I arrived at ten minutes past twelve."

"Thank you." Harding made a brief note. "The butler. I think admitted you. Will you describe to me just what you did after entering the house?"

"I'll try to," said Mrs. Twining. "But I trust you won't use it in evidence against me."

He smiled. "We only do that when we make arrests, Mrs. Twining. If you can carry your mind back successfully - I know it is difficult to remember exactly it would help me to check up on the various statements."

"Well, I think I laid down my sunshade first," said Mrs. Twining reflectively. "Ah, that doesn't interest you. I told Finch that I wanted to tidy my hair (a euphemism for "powder my nose", of course), and would show myself out on to the terrace."

"And you did in fact powder your nose, Mrs. Twining, at the mirror over the fireplace?"

"Most thoroughly," she agreed.

"How long did that take you?"

She looked rather amused. "When a woman powders her nose, Inspector, she loses count of time. My own estimate would be a moment or two; almost any man, I feel, would probably say, ages."

"Were you as long, perhaps, as five minutes?"

"I hope not. Let us say three - without prejudice."

"And during that time, did you hear voices in the study?"

"No," said Mrs. Twining. "I heard no sound at all in the study."

"And when you left the hall, you went straight out on to the terrace? Can you remember who was there?"

She thought for a moment. "Certainly Miss Fawcett," she said. "Ah yes! Mrs. Halliday also, and Mr. Guest."

"You are sure that there was no one else, Mrs. Twining?"

"Not when I first arrived," she answered. "Miss Fawcett and I strolled to the rose-garden to find Lady Billington-Smith, who, however, was in the vegetable-garden. She joined us on the lawn as we were returning to the terrace."

"Had anyone else come on to the terrace by that time?"

"No. I remember thinking how bored Mrs. Halliday appeared to be with Mr. Guest's sole company."

Harding made another note. "Now, Mrs. Twining, can you recall just when the other members of the party joined you? It is rather important, so please take your time."

She sat for a minute in silence, absently regarding the Sergeant. "Mrs. Chudleigh," she said presently. "She arrived almost immediately after we - Miss Fawcett, Lady Billington-Smith, and myself had come back to the terrace. She wanted a subscription for some charity. Mr. Halliday was the last to put in an appearance. He came out of the billiard-room a few minutes later."

"When you say a few minutes, Mrs. Twining, does that mean five? - ten? - fifteen?"

"It is difficult for me to say. We were all talking, you see. I don't think it can have been as much as fifteen. Somewhere between five and ten minutes. But I am merely guessing."

"Miss de Silva, then, didn't join you at all?"

"Not until very much later - some little time after one -o'clock."

"I see. And before one o'clock, did anyone leave the terrace?"

"I believe Mr. Guest went upstairs for his tobacco," she replied.

"At about what time, Mrs. Twining?"

"Very soon after Mr. Halliday joined us."

"Before half past twelve, do you think or after?"

She reflected. "Before," she said. "At half past twelve Mrs. Chudleigh called our attention to the time, and said she must go, or she would be late for lunch."

"Had Mr. Guest returned by then?"

She frowned slightly. "I'm not entirely sure. I fancy not."

"Had he returned, can you remember, by the time Finch brought out the tray of cocktails?"

She made a little gesture with her hand. "Again, I am uncertain. I don't think I noticed his return. He was certainly on the terrace just before one. That is all I can say."

Harding looked up. "He might have been absent for half an hour, in fact?"

"Oh no!" she said. "I should certainly have noticed that."

"And no one else left the terrace until you yourself went to fetch Sir Arthur?"

"No," she answered. "No one."

"Thank you, Mrs. Twining. Now as to your own iuovements: you went to fetch Sir Arthur on to the terrace. Had you any particular reason for wanting to see him?"

She raised her brows a trifle haughtily. "Particular reason?" she repeated. "I don't think I quite understand you, Inspector. What precisely do you mean?"

"Nothing very much," said Harding, with his rather charming smile. "It merely strikes me, a stranger, as a little odd, if the only reason for fetching Sir Arthur was as you informed the Superintendent yesterday - that he should not miss his cocktail, that it was not Lady lüllington-Smith who went to him, or even Miss Fawcett."

Mrs. Twining unfastened the catch of her bag, and closed it again. "It was not really so very odd, Inspector if you knew the circumstances."

"But, you see, I don't know the circumstances," said Harding. "That is what I want you to explain to me, please."

Mrs. Twining looked up from her bag. "It would take rather too long, Inspector, I am afraid. I was a very old friend of Sir Arthur's. There was nothing at all unusual in my going to have a little talk with him."

"Then you did, in fact, want to see him alone?" said Harding.

She hesitated. "Yes," she said at last. "There was something I wanted to discuss with him." She met Harding's steady regard. "His son's marriage," she said, deliberately.

"Sir Arthur was considerably upset by Geoffrey's engagement to Miss de Silva, and I wanted to talk it overwith him."

"When you say upset, Mrs. Twining, do you m(ean distressed or enraged?"

"I imagine, both, Inspector. It was, not unnaturally a blow to Sir Arthur." She moved slightly in her chair putting a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Am I right in assuming, Mrs. Twining, that there had been a serious quarrel between Sir Arthur and his son which you wished if possible to smooth over?"

She smiled. "Serious, Inspector? Oh no! Noisy perhaps, but hardly serious to anyone acquainted with Sir Arthur. Sir Arthur had had far too many quarrels with his son - and, in fact, with everybody with whom he came in contact - for his outbreaks to be taken seriously. But while his bad temper lasted he could make himself extremely disagreeable. I am afraid my mission was only to talk him into a good humour so that he shouldn't ruin his wife's luncheon-party - as he was somewhat apt to do when at all put out."

"You didn't consider the quarrel with his son to be of much moment?"

"You see," said Mrs. Twining apologetically, "I knew Sir Arthur too well to set much store by his threats."

"And you didn't think that his threats might provoke his son to some extreme course of action?"

She gave a faint laugh. "No, Inspector, I certainly did not. I am also well acquainted with Geoffrey - too well acquainted to expect him to do more than precisely what he did do - fling himself out of the house in a temper and walk it off, and return - a trifle sheepishly."

"I see," said Harding. "And now will you try to tell me, Mrs. Twining, exactly how you found Sir Arthur, when you went into the study, and what you did?"

"I found him dead, Inspector," she replied calmly. "He had fallen forward across his desk."

"You didn't raise any outcry?" inquired Harding.

"If you mean, did I scream, certainly not. I am not a flapper," said Mrs. Twining with a touch of asperity. "Nor did I immediately realise that Sir Arthur was dead. If I remember rightly, I spoke his name first. Then I went up to him, and laid my hand on his shoulder." Involuntarily sloe glanced down at her hand. "I didn't see the blood till I had actually touched him," she said in a level controlled voice. "I don't think I grasped what had happened even then. I believe I must have stayed quite still for some moments. I felt - a little stunned. When I pulled myself together I tried to rouse him; I think I felt for his pulse." She stopped, and pressed her handkerchief to her lips.