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“Now please describe just what occurred when the hold-up happened.”
“Well, the lights went out suddenly—”
“Where were you?”
“By the mantelpiece. I was searching for my lighter which I thought I had put down there. The lights went out—and everybody giggled. Then the door was flung open and this man shone a torch on us and flourished a revolver and told us to put our hands up.”
“Which you proceeded to do?”
“Well, I didn’t actually. I thought it was just fun, and I was tired and I didn’t think I needed really to put them up.”
“In fact, you were bored by the whole thing?”
“I was, rather. And then the revolver went off. The shots sounded deafening and I was really frightened. The torch went whirling round and dropped and went out, and then Mitzi started screaming. It was just like a pig being killed.”
“Did you find the torch very dazzling?”
“No, not particularly. It was quite a strong one, though. It lit up Miss Bunner for a moment and she looked quite like a turnip ghost—you know, all white and staring with her mouth open and her eyes starting out of her head.”
“The man moved the torch?”
“Oh, yes, he played it all round the room.”
“As though he were looking for someone?”
“Not particularly, I should say.”
“And after that, Mrs. Haymes?”
Phillipa Haymes frowned.
“Oh, it was all a terrible muddle and confusion. Edmund Swettenham and Patrick Simmons switched on their lighters and they went out into the hall and we followed, and someone opened the dining room door—the lights hadn’t fused there—and Edmund Swettenham gave Mitzi a terrific slap on the cheek and brought her out of her screaming fit, and after that it wasn’t so bad.”
“You saw the body of the dead man?”
“Yes.”
“Was he known to you? Had you ever seen him before?”
“Never.”
“Have you any opinion as to whether his death was accidental, or do you think he shot himself deliberately?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“You didn’t see him when he came to the house previously?”
“No. I believe it was in the middle of the morning and I shouldn’t have been there. I’m out all day.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Haymes. One thing more. You haven’t any valuable jewellery? Rings, bracelets, anything of that kind?”
Phillipa shook her head.
“My engagement ring—a couple of brooches.”
“And as far as you know, there was nothing of particular value in the house?”
“No. I mean there is some quite nice silver—but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Haymes.”
II
As Craddock retraced his steps through the kitchen garden he came face to face with a large red-faced lady, carefully corseted.
“Good morning,” she said belligerently. “What do you want here?”
“Mrs. Lucas? I am Detective-Inspector Craddock.”
“Oh, that’s who you are? I beg your pardon. I don’t like strangers forcing their way into my garden wasting the gardeners’ time. But I quite understand you have to do your duty.”
“Quite so.”
“May I ask if we are to expect a repetition of that outrage last night at Miss Blacklock’s? Is it a gang?”
“We are satisfied, Mrs. Lucas, that it was not the work of a gang.”
“There are far too many robberies nowadays. The police are getting slack.” Craddock did not reply. “I suppose you’ve been talking to Phillipa Haymes?”
“I wanted her account as an eyewitness.”
“You couldn’t have waited until one o’clock, I suppose? After all, it would be fairer to question her in her time, rather than in mine. …”
“I’m anxious to get back to headquarters.”
“Not that one expects consideration nowadays. Or a decent day’s work. On duty late, half an hour’s pottering. A break for elevenses at ten o’clock. No work done at all the moment the rain starts. When you want the lawn mown there’s always something wrong with the mower. And off duty five or ten minutes before the proper time.”
“I understood from Mrs. Haymes that she left here at twenty minutes past five yesterday instead of five o’clock.”
“Oh, I dare say she did. Give her her due, Mrs. Haymes is quite keen on her work, though there have been days when I have come out here and not been able to find her anywhere. She is a lady by birth, of course, and one feels it’s one’s duty to do something for these poor young war widows. Not that it isn’t very inconvenient. Those long school holidays and the arrangement is that she has extra time off then. I told her that there are really excellent camps nowadays where children can be sent and where they have a delightful time and enjoy it far more than wandering about with their parents. They need practically not come home at all in the summer holidays.”
“But Mrs. Haymes didn’t take kindly to that idea?”
“She’s as obstinate as a mule, that girl. Just the time of year when I want the tennis court mowed and marked nearly every day. Old Ashe gets the lines crooked. But my convenience is never considered!”
“I presume Mrs. Haymes takes a smaller salary than is usual?”
“Naturally. What else could she expect?”
“Nothing, I’m sure,” said Craddock. “Good morning, Mrs. Lucas.”
III
“It was dreadful,” said Mrs. Swettenham happily. “Quite—quite—dreadful, and what I say is that they ought to be far more careful what advertisements they accept at the Gazette office. At the time, when I read it, I thought it was very odd. I said so, didn’t I, Edmund?”
“Do you remember just what you were doing when the lights went out, Mrs. Swettenham?” asked the Inspector.
“How that reminds me of my old Nannie! Where was Moses when the light went out? The answer, of course, was ‘In the Dark.’ Just like us yesterday evening. All standing about and wondering what was going to happen. And then, you know, the thrill when it suddenly went pitch black. And the door opening—just a dim figure standing there with a revolver and that blinding light and a menacing voice saying ‘Your money or your life!’ Oh, I’ve never enjoyed anything so much. And then a minute later, of course, it was all dreadful. Real bullets, just whistling past our ears! It must have been just like the Commandos in the war.”
“Whereabouts were you standing or sitting at the time, Mrs. Swettenham?”
“Now let me see, where was I? Who was I talking to, Edmund?”
“I really haven’t the least idea, Mother.”
“Was it Miss Hinchcliffe I was asking about giving the hens cod liver oil in the cold weather? Or was it Mrs. Harmon—no, she’d only just arrived. I think I was just saying to Colonel Easterbrook that I thought it was really very dangerous to have an atom research station in England. It ought to be on some lonely island in case the radio activity gets loose.”
“You don’t remember if you were sitting or standing?”
“Does it really matter, Inspector? I was somewhere over by the window or near the mantelpiece, because I know I was quite near the clock when it struck. Such a thrilling moment! Waiting to see if anything might be going to happen.”
“You describe the light from the torch as blinding. Was it turned full on to you?”
“It was right in my eyes. I couldn’t see a thing.”
“Did the man hold it still, or did he move it about, from person to person?”
“Oh, I don’t really know. Which did he do, Edmund?”
“It moved rather slowly over us all, so as to see what we were all doing, I suppose, in case we should try and rush him.”
“And where exactly in the room were you, Mr. Swettenham?”
“I’d been talking to Julia Simmons. We were both standing up in the middle of the room—the long room.”
“
Was everyone in that room, or was there anyone in the far room?”
“Phillipa Haymes had moved in there, I think. She was over by that far mantelpiece. I think she was looking for something.”
“Have you any idea as to whether the third shot was suicide or an accident?”
“I’ve no idea at all. The man seemed to swerve round very suddenly and then crumple up and fall—but it was all very confused. You must realise that you couldn’t really see anything. And then that refugee girl started yelling the place down.”
