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“Yes, but any of the others?”
“We had both seen Angela Sutcliffe in a play in London five years ago. Both Stephen and I were very excited that we were actually going to meet her.”
“You had never actually met her before?”
“No. We’ve never met any actresses—or actors, for the matter of that—until Sir Charles came to live here. And that,” added Mrs. Babbington, “was a great excitement. I don’t think Sir Charles knows what a wonderful thing it was to us. Quite a breath of romance in our lives.”
“You hadn’t met Captain and Mrs. Dacres?”
“Was he the little man, and the woman with the wonderful clothes?”
“Yes.”
“No. Nor the other woman—the one who wrote plays. Poor thing, she looked rather out of it, I thought.”
“You’re sure you’d never seen any of them before?”
“I’m quite sure I hadn’t—and so I’m fairly sure Stephen hadn’t, either. You see, we do everything together.”
“And Mr. Babbington didn’t say anything to you—anything at all,” persisted Egg, “about the people you were going to meet, or about them, when he saw them?”
“Nothing beforehand—except that he was looking forward to an interesting evening. And when we got there—well, there wasn’t much time—” Her face twisted suddenly.
Sir Charles broke in quickly.
“You must forgive us badgering you like this. But, you see, we feel that there must be something, if only we could get at it. There must be some reason for an apparently brutal and meaningless murder.”
“I see that,” said Mrs. Babbington. “If it was murder, there must be some reason…But I don’t know—I can’t imagine—what that reason could be.”
There was silence for a minute or two, then Sir Charles said:
“Can you give me a slight biographical sketch of your husband’s career?”
Mrs. Babbington had a good memory for dates. Sir Charles’s final notes ran thus:
“Stephen Babbington, born Islington, Devon, 1868. Educated St. Paul’s School and Oxford. Ordained Deacon and received a title to the Parish of Hoxton, 1891. Priested 1892. Was Curate Eslington, Surrey, to Rev. Vernon Lorrimer, 1894–1899. Married Margaret Lorrimer, 1899, and presented to the living of Gilling, Kent. Transferred to living of St. Petroch, Loomouth, 1916.”
“That gives us something to go upon,” said Sir Charles. “Our best chance seems to me the time during which Mr. Babbington was Vicar of St. Mary’s, Gilling. His earlier history seems rather far back to concern any of the people who were at my house that evening.”
Mrs. Babbington shuddered.
“Do you really think—that one of them—?”
“I don’t know what to think,” said Sir Charles. “Bartholomew saw something or guessed something, and Bartholomew Strange died the same way, and five—”
“Seven,” said Egg.
“—of these people were also present. One of them must be guilty.”
“But why?” cried Mrs. Babbington. “Why? What motive could there be for anyone killing Stephen?”
“That,” said Sir Charles, “is what we are going to find out.”
Two
LADY MARY
Mr. Satterthwaite had come down to Crow’s Nest with Sir Charles. Whilst his host and Egg Lytton Gore were visiting Mrs. Babbington, Mr. Satterthwaite was having tea with Lady Mary.
