know it may have a very important bearing on the case. If Colonel Protheroe had some guilty secret in his life – something disgraceful – well, you can see for yourself what a field it opens up.’
I suppose it did.
‘I’ve been trying to get the butler to talk. He might have overheard some of the conversation between Colonel Protheroe and Lestrange. Butlers do sometimes. But he swears he hasn’t the least idea of what the conversation was about. By the way, he got the sack through it. The Colonel went for him, being angry at his having let her in. The butler retorted by giving notice. Says he didn’t like the place anyway and had been thinking of leaving for some time.’
‘Really.’
‘So that gives us another person who had a grudge against the Colonel.’
‘You don’t seriously suspect the man – what’s his name, by the way?’
‘His name’s Reeves, and I don’t say I do suspect him. What I say is, you never know. I don’t like that soapy, oily manner of his.’
I wonder what Reeves would say of Inspector Slack’s manner.
‘I’m going to question the chauffeur now.’
‘Perhaps, then,’ I said, ‘you’ll give me a lift in your car. I want a short interview with Mrs Protheroe.’
‘What about?’
‘The funeral arrangements.’
‘Oh!’ Inspector Slack was slightly taken aback. ‘The inquest’s tomorrow, Saturday.’
‘Just so. The funeral will probably be arranged for Tuesday.’
Inspector Slack seemed to be a little ashamed of himself for his brusqueness. He held out an olive branch in the shape of an invitation to be present at the interview with the chauffeur, Manning.
Manning was a nice lad, not more than twenty-five or six years of age. He was inclined to be awed by the Inspector.
‘Now, then, my lad,’ said Slack, ‘I want a little information from you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ stammered the chauffeur. ‘Certainly, sir.’
If he had committed the murder himself he could not have been more alarmed.
‘You took your master to the village yesterday?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Five-thirty.’
‘Mrs Protheroe went too?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You went straight to the village?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You didn’t stop anywhere on the way?’
‘No, sir.’
‘What did you do when you got there?’
‘The Colonel got out and told me he wouldn’t want the car again. He’d walk home. Mrs Protheroe had some shopping to do. The parcels were put in the car. Then she said that was all, and I drove home.’
‘Leaving her in the village?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What time was that?’
‘A quarter past six, sir. A quarter past exactly.’
‘Where did you leave her?’
‘By the church, sir.’
‘Had the Colonel mentioned at all where he was going?’
‘He said something about having to see the vet…something to do with one of the horses.’
‘I see. And you drove straight back here?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘There are two entrances to Old Hall, by the South Lodge and by the North Lodge. I take it that going to the village you would go by the South Lodge?’
‘Yes, sir, always.’
‘And you came back the same way?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘H’m. I think that’s all. Ah! Here’s Miss Protheroe.’
Lettice drifted towards us.
‘I want the Fiat, Manning,’ she said. ‘Start her for me, will you?’
‘Very good, miss.’
He went towards a two-seater and lifted the bonnet.
‘Just a minute, Miss Protheroe,’ said Slack. ‘It’s necessary that I should have a record of everybody’s movements yesterday afternoon. No offence meant.’
Lettice stared at him.
‘I never know the time of anything,’ she said.
‘I understand you went out soon after lunch yesterday?’
She nodded.
‘Where to, please?’
‘To play tennis.’
‘Who with?’
‘The Hartley Napiers.’
‘At Much Benham?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you returned?’
‘I don’t know. I tell you I never know these things.’
‘You returned,’ I said, ‘about seven-thirty.’
‘That’s right,’ said Lettice. ‘In the middle of the shemozzle. Anne having fits and Griselda supporting her.’
‘Thank you, miss,’ said the Inspector. ‘That’s all I want to know.’
‘How queer,’ said Lettice. ‘It seems so uninteresting.’
She moved towards the Fiat.
The Inspector touched his forehead in a surreptitious manner.
‘A bit wanting?’ he suggested.
‘Not in the least,’ I said. ‘But she likes to be thought so.’
‘Well, I’m off to question the maids now.’
One cannot really like Slack, but one can admire his energy.
We
